Yesterday's Embers
by Piscean6724
Summary: Captain Stanley recruits Mike to assist him in a special assignment for the LA County Fire Department but while doing their research they begin to see their shiftmates a bit differently. What will be the ultimate outcome of "The McConnike Mission?"
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: "Emergency!" and all associated characters belong to Mark VII and Universal Studios. Original characters belong to the author.

Warning: language

Yesterday's Embers

Chapter 1

"Alright men, listen up." Captain Hank Stanley glanced between his clipboard and the five firefighters standing at attention in a line before him. He slowly paced the distance from Mike Stoker on his far right to John Gage on his far left. He felt the heat of the five pairs of eyes following him slowly as he turned around and began the return trek.

As soon as Hank's back was turned to him, Johnny cut his eyes at his partner, arching an eyebrow in silent communication. Roy, who understood him without the use of spoken words, answered with only a shrug.

Chet however, failed to find the self-restraint that the paramedics had somehow managed. "Uh, Cap…something wrong?"

"What's that?" Hank looked up from his musings and into the blue eyes of the curly-haired lineman, confused by the obvious gulp his question elicited from the younger man.

"Um, is something wrong?"

Hank lowered his clipboard to his side. "Ah, no…nothing's wrong. Dismissed."

"But Cap…what about our chore assignments?"

"Oh…right…thanks, Marco." Hank glanced back down at his clipboard. "Roy, you're cooking and cleaning up the day room. Marco, apparatus bay. Chet, dorm and Johnny, latrines."

"Ha, hop to it, Gagey-baby." Chet clapped his hands together rubbing them briskly in his usual show of victory.

The rest of the men headed off to begin their assignments leaving a grumbling Johnny turning slowly toward the latrine and a very confused Mike Stoker standing stoically in formation.

Hank took another peek at his clipboard then began his return trip to his office.

"Cap? Cap, uh…what about me?"

"Oh yea, Mike…I need to see you in my office please. I have a…well, a special assignment for you."

Chet tapped the back of Johnny's arm to get his attention.

"What the hell'd he do?" Chet asked using his stage whisper voice.

"I dunno, Chet…I really don't know."

E!

"Take a seat." Hank dropped his clipboard down on the desk as his engineer sat down.

Mike couldn't help but notice the Los Angeles County Fire Department stationary on the letter attached to the clipboard as it landed on the desktop beside him. He leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees synchronizing his movements with Hank leaning back in his seat. "Soooo, what's this special assignment?"

Hank was beginning to second guess himself but reached across his desk and removed the memo from its secured spot and handed it to Mike.

Mike accepted the proffered single page and began perusing its contents. By the time his eyes reached the signature line he was smiling. "Wow, this is a great idea. And it was Chief McConnike who came up with it?"

"That's right," Hank said with a grin as he reached out to retrieve the memo. "I've been trying for years to figure out how to get back in his good graces after the whole..." He paused with a grimace. "Well…you know."

"You never did tell us why you burned his hat."

"Not going to either." Hank shot back. "So, I was thinking of volunteering us for this assignment."

Mike felt his mouth suddenly go dry as the words 'volunteer' and 'us' continued to linger in the air between the two men. "Um, so you…ah, you want the six of us to develop a proposal?"

Hank felt the heat rising up from his collar and settling along the tips of his ears. "No…not exactly."

"Not exactly?"

"Well, you gotta admit, Mike. John can't handle the stress without freezing up."

Mike's blue gaze fell to the floor as he remembered Johnny's miserable live interview with Roy on a television show.

"And," Hank leaned his forearm across the desk as he looked seriously at the younger man. "Can you imagine what McConnike would do to me if I allowed Chet to get involved in this?"

"Yea…might be worse than the hat burning." Mike fished for details but his superior wasn't in a biting mood.

"I was thinking maybe just you and me. The others wouldn't have to know what we were doing. And," he raised his finger for emphasis. "If ours is chosen then we make Chief McConnike look good which…"

"Which might put him in a forgiving mood?" Mike interrupted.

Hank opened his mouth to speak but his words were quickly overtaken by the sound of the klaxons.

E!

The men of 'A' shift at Station 51 abandoned their morning chore assignments and began boarding their respective emergency vehicles as the voice of Sam Lanier echoed throughout the building.

_**Station 51…child trapped on a roof. 8904 McGhee Lane. 8-9-0-4 McGhee Lane. Cross street Edwards Circle. Time out 08:48.**_

"KMG-365," acknowledged Captain Stanley as he tore the slip of paper off the tiny pad and passed it to Roy on his way to his seat on the engine.

Roy passed the white slip of paper over to his partner then tightened his chin strap as the bay doors rose. Johnny, having consulted the wall map on his way to the squad, pointed his finger to the left directing Roy to the address with Mike and the engine crew following close behind, red lights flashing and sirens blaring.

Traffic yielded to the two emergency vehicles allowing them to hurriedly make their way to the scene. Roy screeched to a stop beside the curb in front of an older white two story home with gray shutters and shingles. The red front door opened quickly spewing forth a frantic young woman wearing ragged jeans and a pale blue t-shirt splotched with red and yellow paint.

"Oh, please hurry….he's…he's gonna fall," she wailed combing her hands through her chestnut colored short hair.

"Ma'am, please settle down…now tell us what's wrong." Hank's commanding voice was both assuring and a bit startling to the young woman.

Back at the engine, Marco, Mike and Chet had already seen the impending disaster on the roof of the tall structure.

Chet emitted a low whistle. "Daammnnn," he muttered softly, more to himself than to anyone else.

Roy saw the engine crew with their necks craned towards the roof. He shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand as his eyes searched for the source of their amazement. "Oh no."

"What?" Johnny asked squinting upwards as well. "Oh…"

Hank held the floundering young woman by her upper arms as she fought for breath to explain the predicament her son was now in.

"I…I was painting his room…and…I left the window open…for the air to…to circulate and…and I looked around…and he…he was gone and…when I called him…he cried out for me…" The child's mother allowed her head to drop to Captain Stanley's chest as she continued between sobs. "He…he's on the roof…beside the…the weather vane."

Hank's heart skipped a beat when he looked up and saw the young boy crouched in a crevice and holding on to the spinning turbine. He could tell by the color of his cheeks that he was both scared and crying. He was soon surrounded by his men anxious for their assignments for this rescue.

"Cap, I think Johnny can get to him from the open window."

Hank looked at Roy and then nodded his agreement. I want the rest of you up there anchoring his lifeline and Johnny, use a belt to secure the boy to you before you attempt to walk back across that roof with him."

"No problem, Cap." Johnny answered. "Uh, ma'am…what's his name?"

"A-Adam."

"Alright," Johnny responded following the woman's gaze back to the roof. "Does he have any medical conditions?"

"No…nothing." She stuttered never taking her eyes off the frightened child.

"We'll have him down in just a few minutes, ahh." Hank looked at her questioningly.

"Joyce…Joyce Collins."

"My men will have him safely back inside soon, Mrs. Collins." Hank remained standing with her as a patrol car arrived on the scene.

Hank watched nervously as his crew retrieved the supplies they'd need from their vehicles and made their way inside the home.

"Whatcha got, Hank?"

"Well, kid crawled out the open window and now he's attached himself to the weather vane up there." Hank spoke to Vince Howard without looking at him. His eyes were fixed on the open window as he waited for his men to reach their destination.

Vince stood beside Mrs. Collins pulling his pen and pad out of his shirt pocket while matching the stance of the other two people standing near him; their heads tilted back silently praying that young Adam would not move until Johnny could get to him.

Inside the room, Johnny quickly wrapped the belt around his waist while Roy secured it with a rope. The three men positioned themselves away from the window with Marco acting as anchorman as Johnny folded up his thin frame and crawled out the window inching closer and closer to the place where Adam sat transfixed.

"Hey, Adam…my name's Johnny…just hold real still for me, a'right?"

The young boy, who reminded John of a five year old Chester B. Kelly, stared at the black iron rooster perched atop the metal 'X' on a pole. His body was rigid with only a few tufts of hair blowing around his face from the early morning breeze.

"Good job, kiddo," Johnny continued in his most soothing voice as he slowly crept along the high pitched roof closing the gap between them. "A little more slack!" He shouted over his shoulder.

Inside the room, the three men slowly released more of the rope prepared to stop Johnny's fall should he slip. Sweat beads formed along Mike's upper lip and along his brow but he never relinquished his grip on the rope. Marco leaned back heavily using his stouter build to secure the lifeline while Roy stood steadfast in his place nearest the open window. Finally, they heard the signal they were waiting for.

"A'right," Johnny's voice floated back inside the open window. "I got him and we're heading back to you guys."

Hank heard Mrs. Collins gasp when Johnny reached out and secured her son. She wrapped one arm around her midsection while she dried her wet cheeks with the other.

"He's got him now, Mrs. Collins. Let's go inside…I'm sure he'd rather have you holding him than my paramedic." He smiled down at the obviously relieved young mother.

Johnny eased back to the window and released Adam into the waiting arms of Roy. He then slipped back through the narrow opening and began removing his belt while Marco wrapped the rope around his elbow and hand coiling it to be stored away until the next time it was needed.

"Let's have a look at you." Roy said carrying the young boy over to his bed and laying him down on the black and red comforter. "You hurt anywhere?"

Tearful brown eyes looked back up at him as Adam nodded his head negatively in answer to Roy's question. "I bet that was scary, huh?"

"Adam? Adam?" Mrs. Collins burst through the bedroom door pushing Mike and Chet aside in an effort to reach her son. "Don't ever do that again," she admonished amid a flurry of hugs and kisses.

"Ma'am…he seems ok…just a little frightened. Why don't you let us look him over just to be sure though?" Roy smiled at the mother and child.

Mike stood back looking around at the room obviously decorated for a young boy. There was a fire truck mural about three quarters finished on the wall opposite the bed. A large stuffed Dalmatian stood sentinel near the closet door and a toy red helmet, yellow jacket and black boots lay crumpled at the foot of the bed. He couldn't help but smile to himself at the irony of the situation wondering if perhaps young Adam Collins might one day benefit from the work he and Hank were about to begin on for what would soon be affectionately called 'The McConnike Mission.'


	2. Chapter 2

Warning: This chapter depicts one of the worst fires in Los Angeles History, the bombing of the Los Angeles Times building. The scene is graphic. Also warning for language.

Yesterday's Embers

Chapter 2

As soon as the vehicles were backed into the station, their occupants clambered about the apparatus bay in jovial conversation.

"Man, can you believe that kid?"

"He kinda reminded me of you, Chet." Johnny flinched as Chet's elbow connected with his ribs. "OW!"

"I never did anything that stupid," the blue-eyed lineman scoffed.

"I bet your Momma would tell us a different story."

"Hey…leave my Momma outta this, Marco," Chet yelled at the back of his fellow linesman who was heading for the latrine.

"I meant that he _looked _like you," Johnny smirked shaking his head and turning to his partner.

Mike watched Johnny slap a hand on Roy's shoulder as they made their way through the kitchen then turned his attention to Hank. "Cap, got a minute?"

"Sure, Pal. Come on in while I update the log."

The tall engineer followed his captain back into the small office and took another seat beside the desk. He resumed the posture from which the klaxons had disturbed him earlier. "So, where do we need to go to start our research?"

Hank jotted down his notes then closed the log book. He released a sigh as he leaned back in the chair, hands propped on the arms. "So…you're in?"

"Yes sir. I really like the idea. I just don't exactly know where to start," he said looking at Hank beneath raised eyebrows.

"Tell you what. I have this," Hank grunted pulling a large binder from his desk. "It'll get you thinking in the right direction then you start at one of the local libraries and I'll head down to headquarters." Hank couldn't hold back his excitement. "I really appreciate your help on this, Mike." Hank extended his hand while standing.

Mike stood up accepting his Captain's hand in a confirming, though unnecessary, handshake; Mike was a man of his word and everyone within the Los Angeles County Fire Department knew it, especially Hank Stanley. "I'm looking forward to it, Cap."

Hank ushered him the short distance to the door. "Why don't we each work on it for a few days and then get together to finalize it?"

"Sounds good." He turned taking the binder with him to his locker.

Pushing open the latrine door, he heard the toilet flush and saw Johnny backing out of the stall. "Coffee go through you that quickly?"

"Oh…uh no…I left the toilet soaking in bleach while we were gone on that last run," Johnny explained reaching for the mop handle. "Whatcha got there?"

Mike nearly stuttered trying to come up with a plausible explanation. "Ah, just something Cap wanted me to look over." He continued on to his locker slipping the binder inside then hurried on through to the dorms to offer Chet his assistance.

Chet had finished stripping the beds and had just begun the process of making them when Mike walked up behind him.

"Need any..."

"AAhhh," the shorter man yelped spinning around slapping his right hand across his chest. "Damn it man, can't you make a little noise?" Chet felt his heart pounding in his throat from the scare Mike's voice had caused him.

"I just wanted to see if you needed any help." Mike tried unsuccessfully to hide his amusement.

"Yea, how about CPR. Damn Stoker, I swear…"

"You guys a'right," Johnny asked sticking his head in the door?

"Yea, yea…Stoker just came sneaking in here like a cat and scared the shit outta me," Chet's voice was laced with exasperation as he returned to his task.

"Well, toilet's clean if you need it, Chet."

"Oh ha ha, very funny, Gage."

Mike exchanged a quick grin with Johnny just as the paramedic released the door to return to cleaning the latrine. He grabbed a set of sheets and stepped over to Marco's bed to begin making it up while Chet started with Johnny's bunk.

"I outta short sheet him," Chet mused a little too loudly.

Mike shook his head as he snapped the flat sheet in the air above the bed and began tucking it in forming perfect military corners. The history between the Phantom and Johnny was famous throughout the station and in a way it felt a bit comforting to know that everything was just as it should be among the men of 'A' shift. Silently, he contemplated the contents of the binder he'd been given. _Maybe I'll have a chance to look through it later on; that is, if the shift is a quiet one._

E!

The remainder of the morning consisted of a false alarm at a nursing home, polishing Big Red and two brief runs for the squad. By the time the men had gathered around the table for a lunch of vegetable soup and sandwiches, Mike's curiosity was getting the better of him.

"Mike, will ya pass the pepper, please?"

Mike continued staring into his soup as his mind wandered back in time.

"Ah, Mike?" Johnny looked at the seemingly catatonic engineer then across the table to their captain.

Hank reached for the pepper and passed it to his younger paramedic. "Stoker, you ok Pal?" He waited a moment for a response.

Chet cupped his hands around his mouth. "LA to Engine 51," he said using his best impression of a dispatcher's disembodied radio voice.

Mike's blue eyes darted around and he felt his blush forming when he realized that all eyes were on him.

"Welcome back, Mike." Roy deadpanned.

"Oh…somebody talking to me?"

"Nah, just Johnny," Marco chuckled returning his attention to Roy's soup, earning a double take and a smirk from the dark haired paramedic.

"Sorry. I was just thinking about something. What was the question?"

"Never mind, man. I got it." Johnny held up the pepper shaker briefly and cast Mike a lopsided grin as understanding made its way across the engineer's face.

After lunch, Mike offered his help to Roy and they quickly cleaned up the kitchen. As soon as the dishes were washed and the table was wiped down, Mike made his way out the door and into the locker room. Retrieving the binder he'd stored away earlier, he carried it back to his bunk propping himself up against the brick wall and opened it up.

Mike's crystal blue eyes scanned the pictures he found inside taking in every detail. He read the captions beneath the pictures and the text typed out beside each one. He saw depictions of flames pouring out of blown out windows licking the night sky. A couple of bodies lay lifeless along the sidewalk beneath the crumbling brick façade of the old building. One particularly gruesome sketch depicted a man falling, or perhaps jumping, from the third story window while his shirt burned brightly down his left sleeve and back. Mike took in every detail; his skin felt the heat from the inferno and his ears heard the horrific sounds of agonizing screams matching the visions his eyes were seeing. The last picture in the series showed the smoldering remains of the once strong building. Only the statue of a bronze eagle remained. His fingers slowly turned the page where he found a summary of the grizzly event.

_**At 1:07 AM on October 1, 1910, the Los Angeles Times building at the corner of Broadway and 1**__**st**__** was purposefully dynamited; resulting in the deaths of 21 people and over 100 injuries. The suitcase of dynamite was left in Ink Alley and…..**_

Mike continued to read the story of what was at the time called 'the crime of the century.' In his mind, the firefighters called upon to battle the blaze using a steam powered apparatus and horse-drawn ladder and hose vehicles, were replaced by the 'A' shift of Station 51.

_Mike gripped the reins tighter. "Yah, yah," he shouted snapping the leather straps against the backs of the horses pulling the Nott steam engine closer to the orange flames. When the explosion happened and the ground shook, Mike had immediately thought an earthquake had struck the area. He was not alone in his assumption but when he was called upon to ready the steam engine, he knew something else had happened. Now, as he made his way to the scene urging the team of horses pulling the steam engine on, he wondered what he and the rest of the crew might find. Hank was riding in the seat behind the apparatus ringing the bell steadily. As captain of this crew , he was grateful for their skills and abilities but he also knew that whatever lay ahead of them was going to require more of them than any other fire they'd ever been summoned to fight._

_Marco was following close behind in the hose wagon with Chet hanging on. Each man stared into the night sky hearing the shouts and agonizing screams of those in peril. His heart was galloping keeping time with the hoof beats of the horses under his command and he knew Chet well enough to know he was feeling the same way. They made the final turn throwing Chet into Marco's shoulder and leaving the younger man hanging on to his hat in the damp October night air._

"_What could've caused this?"_

"_I don't know, Chet," Marco mumbled as he stared wide-eyed at the fully involved building._

_Roy and Johnny followed in the ladder wagon with Roy at the helm and Johnny riding shotgun. In the distance, flames were seen stretching higher and higher into the sky. The screams echoed in their ears and sent cold shivers down their spines. _

"_Oh my God. Can you believe this, Roy?" Johnny stared at the bright orange glow ahead._

"_Oh no, no don't!" Roy grimaced at the sight he'd just witnessed; a woman plunging to her death from the third floor of the building, her garments ablaze. He felt his gut tighten and twist as her lifeless body lay in a heap along the sidewalk, clothing still smoldering._

_Johnny gulped forcing back the bile that had risen to the back of his throat. He watched mesmerized as a police officer he didn't recognize pulled the woman's body away from the edge of the building and positioned it respectfully beside the blackened body another of her fallen co-workers. _

_Mike stopped the rig far enough away from the structure to protect the horses and the steam engine itself. He couldn't believe the intensity of the heat wave that washed over him as he dismounted from his lofty seat._

"_Alright men," Hank jumped down from his perch and addressed the four members of his crew who were staring at the burning building while Mike hitched the teams to posts nearby. Shattered glass littered the sidewalk sparkling in the light of the dancing flames. "Get those ladders up there to the….," he was cut off by a blood curdling scream and the entire crew craned their necks to see an image that would haunt them for the rest of their lives. _

_The scream had come from the third floor near the place where the eagle was perched. A man had leaned out the window in an effort to escape the hellish flames relentlessly scorching his back when the area beneath his feet gave way and he fell back into the bowels of hell. Roy felt himself beginning to hyperventilate knowing that he'd just watched a man die because he and Johnny hadn't gotten to him quickly enough. _

"_Roy, John," Hank called out but realized the two men were already ahead of his orders. They hustled to the nearest window with a ladder. Johnny scrambled to the top while Roy worked to stabilize the wooden ladder allowing his partner to assist any survivors._

"_Marco and Chet," Hank turned cupping his hands around his mouth so the other two firemen could hear him amid the noise. "Get another ladder up to that third floor." He didn't wait to see that his orders were carried out. He knew his men and he knew that they were some of the best in the department. He didn't need to see them to know what they were doing. Nor did he need to look at the disaster playing out before him to know that it was the worst fire he'd ever experienced in all his years with the fire department._

"_Stoker," Hank addressed his engineer. "Let's get these hoses attached and help get some water on this dragon."_

"_On it, Cap." Mike swiped his arm across his brow as he hurried over to the shiny apparatus while Hank pulled the hose. The job was normally carried out by Lopez and Kelly but at the moment, they were doing their best to save people who were still alive and trying desperately to escape the nightmare they found themselves trapped in._

_The smoke was thick and the fire incredibly hot. Many of the firemen pulled their handkerchiefs over their mouth and nose to block out as much of the choking smoke as possible but they couldn't stop it from burning their eyes and heating up the clothing they wore._

"_Hey Roy? We got one!" Johnny helped the thin bleeding man step through the window and steadied him as he gripped the ladder with shaky hands. They half slid and half climbed down distance to the sidewalk below. Roy continued holding the ladder until they reached the sidewalk. "Nobody…uha…nobody else in there," Johnny coughed to his partner. _

_Together, the two firemen assisted the injured man a couple of blocks to the receiving hospital. The groans of the injured awaiting treatment assaulted their ears as they dropped off the man into the care of the overwhelmed staff. It was merely the first of several trips the duo would make that night._

_Chet had tried valiantly to rescue a gentleman he had seen at the window moments before he'd shimmied up the tall ladder. By the time he'd gotten to him, the man was nowhere to be found. He knew he couldn't go inside to look for him as the heat and smoke began to overtake him. He leaned against the ladder wrapping his arms around it. "Uha…ahaa," he coughed and wheezed leaning his head down against his arms trying desperately to find good air to breathe._

"_C'mon down, Chet." Marco could see his partner was in distress and became fearful that he'd fall. _

"_Uha…gotta…uha…help'em." He rubbed his eyes smearing the soot around on his cheeks and blinked rapidly as he looked back up at the glowing window. _

"_Chet, no! Too late!" Marco briefly considered shaking the ladder to dislodge the younger man. He knew Chet stood a better chance of surviving a fall than from the roaring inferno. A rumbling began to shake the remnants of the building and the remainder of the second floor succumbed to the intense heat and destruction._

_Chet both felt and heard the vibrations and knew he had to get away from the dying building. He could no longer open his rapidly swelling eyes, trying hard to protect them as much as he could from the dust and debris floating along with the smoke. He felt each rung of the creaking ladder as he made his way down as quickly as he could. When he neared the bottom he felt a familiar hand tugging at the back of his neck and leading him away from the heat._

"_Here, Chet. Let me rinse out your eyes with this while you try to catch your breath." _

_He recognized the voice of Roy DeSoto and felt him begin to wipe a wet handkerchief across his stinging eyes. _

"_Alright, now open them enough for me to pour this water in and get some of this stuff out." Roy waited for him to crack open his eyes and as soon as he saw a glimmer of blue, he poured the water from the metal cup into each one. He didn't have much time to help the lineman as both were called back to duty to continue the battle._

_Marco and Chet took turns manning the hose until the Nott steam engine had spat out the nearly 1300 gallons of fire extinguishing liquid from its belly. Mike set out to reload the apparatus while Hank, Marco and Chet alternated fighting the fire alongside many other Los Angeles City Firemen. _

_As the earliest rays of sunlight began peeking above the horizon, twenty-one people were dead, more than 100 were injured, a multitude of soot covered coughing firemen continued fighting the last of the fire and the Los Angeles Times building was a smoldering heap of rubble with steel girders lying twisted from the heat and charred bricks fighting to stand in the face of the stress it had endured following the vicious attack. Oddly, the large bronze eagle remained on its perch atop the remaining fragments of the structure. _

"_Drink plenty of water, men. Don't want to have to send you to the Receiving Hospital too," Hank ordered wiping ashes off his face. _

"_Do what he says, fellas…you don't wanna see what's down there," Johnny nodded his dark unruly hair in the direction of the Receiving Hospital._

"_Don't want to smell it either." Roy croaked out in a somewhat timid voice. "Lots of burnt flesh….it's the most horrible thing I've ever seen."_

"_Wish we could've gotten here faster."_

"_Wouldn't have mattered, Johnny," Hank responded. "This was a deliberate act according to the police. The place was dynamited and the blast ruptured a gas line. These poor souls normally didn't work at night but they were trying to get the next issue out."_

"_Think it had something to do with the ironworkers?" Mike's blue eyes were shining bright against his darkened soot-covered face._

"_Probably," was the only answer he received from Hank who seemed to be staring at a ghost where the sturdy structure once proudly stood._

"_Yea but, Cap…we saw a guy fall back into the fire and die." Chet didn't look up from his resting place as he patted his wet handkerchief across the back of his singed neck._

"_And that lady who jumped to her death with her clothes burning." Marco finished drinking from the metal cup he was holding. "Going to be a long time before I can get that out of my head."_

"_I don't think I'll ever get it out of mine," Roy said staring at the spirals of smoke still billowing from the pile of what had been a thriving workplace only a few hours earlier._

"_Me either, Roy," Hank offered the younger man. "I doubt any of us ever will."_

"_I hate to say it men but…we gotta go help with the search for remains." Hank dipped another cup full of water out of the bucket and poured it on his handkerchief before tying it around his neck and pulling it up over his nose. It didn't provide much protection but at least it offered a little relief from the choking, acrid, rancid atmosphere they were heading back into._

"_Stoker, you coming?"_

_Mike heard Roy's voice calling his name as the group of weary firemen began to rise and head back toward the ruins._

E!

"Stoker, you coming?"

"Oh, huh?" Mike looked up from the binder and realized that Roy was holding open the door of the dorm and calling out to him.

Roy smiled at the questioning look on Mike's face. "The guys want to shoot some hoops. Want to join us?"

Mike quickly shut the binder and stood up. "Sure…let me just put this up." He returned the binder to his locker then joined the rest of his shiftmates in back of the station. He held a new appreciation for their modern station with modern vehicles and modern personal protective equipment and a modern system of fighting the dragons from hell.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews and kind words. They keep my muse encouraged and busy.

Yesterday's Embers

Chapter 3

The remainder of the shift was quiet with only a couple of runs for the entire station. There was a motor vehicle accident involving a couple of teenagers drag racing. The race winner had been unable to stop before reaching the curve at the end of the straightaway and found himself floating in a shallow pond. The men were grateful for their boots when they had to wade into the sludge of the four foot pond to rescue the young man. His friend and partner in crime had a few superficial scrapes from trying to get to him but was otherwise uninjured. The only other run had been a smoke filled restaurant which turned out to be a forgotten batch of rolls left in the oven.

The night had remained calm without a single run which left Mike and Hank feeling refreshed and ready to work on their project. As soon as the men of 'B' shift arrived, Mike headed to the locker room to change into his street clothes.

"Got big plans for your days off?"

Mike pulled his shirt over his head before he answered the lineman. "Not really, you?"

Marco snickered at the way Mike seemed to use as few words as possible to communicate. "I'm going to visit my sister. I haven't seen my new nephew yet and he's already a month old."

"That's great Uncle Marco," Mike said slapping his friend on the back as he stepped past him with his duffle hanging from his shoulder. "Enjoy the little tyke."

"Thanks."

Mike pushed open the door just as Johnny was reaching out for it. "See you later, Gage."

"Yea, see ya."

E!

Mike squinted his eyes from the bright morning sun and made his way up the marble steps of the branch of the Los Angeles Public Library. The door squeaked slightly when he opened it and the musty smell of old books wafted beneath his nose. He hadn't been in a library in a long time but the scent immediately took him back in time to his high school days.

Looking around, he saw the wooden circulation desk and the smiling bespeckled young woman standing behind it. _Hmmm, if my librarian back in high school had looked like that I'd've studied harder._ He flashed the pretty brunette a smile as he stepped up to the counter.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for some information on the history of the fire department," Mike said softly placing both hands against the tall glossy countertop and leaning into it slightly. He quickly read her name tag noting that her name had an unusual spelling.

"Ok, if you'll follow me, please?" She stepped out from behind the counter and Mike noticed how her dark tresses cascaded in soft curls around her shoulders and were held in place by cloisonné combs behind her ears. Her red silk top was tucked neatly inside her white denim skirt accenting her narrow waist.

Mike's eyes followed the skirt to the top of her knees where her shapely tanned legs moved swiftly across the floor toward the front door. He pushed himself away from the counter and followed the soft clicking sounds her white thong sandals made as she sauntered toward the empty room adjacent to the entrance.

"I think you'll find what you're looking for in here," she said tossing him a smile over her left shoulder while flipping on the lights in the room. "You got here early; we haven't even turned on the lights in here yet."

"I, ah…I just got off shift," he said feeling his stomach flutter a little.

"Oh, where do you work?"

"I'm a firefighter over at 51's," he said following her around the antique looking wooden table to the back wall of the room.

"Ooohh," she crooned with a toothy grin. "And you want to learn a little history on your profession."

Mike noticed that her words were presented as a statement and not a question but it was her long lashes framing her hazel eyes that really caught his attention. She was batting them at him in obvious flirtation and once again he was thrown back to his high school days, to a time when a pretty face made him clam up even quieter than his normal subdued self. "Yea…um…that's right."

"Ok, you'll find lots of information on these two shelves in this back section. Take your time and if you need anything my name is Ryleigh, Ryleigh Abrams."

"Thank you, Mrs. Abrams. I really ap.."

"Oh…it's Miss," she interrupted with a quick smile that accented the dimple in her left cheek.

"Miss…ok, thank you Miss Abrams." He felt a wave of heat rising up from his chest and settling around his collar.

"And you are?" Ryleigh turned her head slightly to the right waiting to find out the name of the handsome fireman who'd walked into her section this morning.

"Mike, Mike Stoker," he blushed.

"Well, nice to meet you, Mike. Please call me Ryleigh and I'll be at the desk if you need anything."

Mike couldn't help but watch the attractive lady waltz out of the room and he was sure there was a little more swivel to her hips during her exit than when she had walked in. He cleared his throat turning to the shelf at his back to begin his research but not until Ryleigh was completely gone from his sight.

E!

"Morning, Hank."

"Good morning, Margie," Hank responded politely to the receptionist in the reference area of Headquarters.

The Los Angeles County Fire Department was formed in 1920, many years following the formation of the Los Angeles City Fire Department. It was started to offer fire protection to the unincorporated portions of the county and since its inception, Headquarters had taken great pains to keep its history alive for future generations. Hank Stanley had always believed that in order to successfully move into the future, one must know his past; it was a belief he espoused not only in his personal life but in his professional one as well. He walked along the shelves of antique nozzles, helmets, badges and the like all with one goal in mind – to ensure that future firefighters who walked through these hallowed walls would not only have a complete history of their profession but that they and the citizens they served would have the most up to date technology available to them for the protection of life and property.

He walked to the shelf containing a large black photo album and slid it from its location. It was heavier than he anticipated so he used both hands to brace it as he made his way to the small round table in the center of the room. The historical part of the project was what he'd delegated to his trusted engineer but before he moved on to his part – the future – he needed to be reminded of their past. Carefully, he opened the hard cover and began a familiar walk down memory lane.

E!

Mike rested his chin in the palm of his right hand while he poured through the newspaper clippings with his left. Suddenly, a black and white photograph of an amusement park burning caught his attention. The image of a man in a suit and hat with his arm around the waist of a woman with dark hair wearing a white skirt that seemed to float near her ankles made him do a double take. He blinked his eyes as he stared again at the photograph of a man who reminded him of John Gage in early 20th century attire. The caption beneath the photograph dated it to September 3, 1912. He hesitated momentarily and the image before his eyes seemed to blur out of focus and the sounds of Johnny's voice began to echo in his ears.

E!

"You gettin' her ready for the call, Mike?" Johnny asked buttoning up his vest.

"Yea…if it's as bad as people are saying then there's no way the men in Ocean Park and Venice can handle it by themselves." Mike grimaced as he double checked the tires on the new motorized vehicle and prepared the hand crank.

"Ok, men…make sure you've got your helmets and..." Hank was about to say something else when the telephone rang. He turned to answer it just as Johnny reached for his boots.

Chet Kelly had just pulled on his sack coat when he saw Johnny standing in front of his boots. Chet gently tapped Marco on the arm with the back of his hand as the older man finished tucking his navy blue uniform shirt inside the waist of his thick woolen trousers.

"Damnation," Johnny yelped kicking his black rubber boot off his right foot and against the wall. "Chester, what the…"

"Easy, Johnny…Cap's on the phone remember?"

Johnny's face was beet red when Roy halted his swearing. "But…but he put…some critter in my boot!" Johnny huffed as he carefully leaned down to pick up his boot that lay on its side in the apparatus bay. He nudged it with his other foot before deciding that whatever the 'Firehouse Phantom,' as Chet's alter ego had become known, had put in his boot probably wasn't alive. Finally, he picked up his boot and tipped it upside down shaking out a six inch braid of what appeared to be hair from a horse's tail.

"Hey Gage, did ya stick your foot up a horse's…"

"That's the call men, let's go." Hank Stanley glared at the two sparring members of his crew. One thing he would not tolerate was foul language among his men; especially when they were in the public's eye. He knew that if they became accustomed to using the offensive words among each other then it would be very easy for them to slip out during a stressful moment at a fire and he did not want to deal with that type of negative publicity.

Roy and Johnny jumped onto their designated places on the new engine while Marco and Chet assumed their positions. Mike cupped the crank with his right hand being extra careful to protect his thumb then gave it a swift upward tug. The 1909 Seagrave sputtered but failed to crank. He hurriedly positioned the crank back in place and with the second upward pull the cream colored lanky vehicle roared to life. Mike hurriedly maneuvered behind the steering wheel and Hank took the shotgun seat. The rest of the crew grasped their handholds and with a bit of a jerky start, Mike pulled the engine out of the firehouse making a wide right turn.

"Beats the hell outta horses, doesn't it?" Chet made sure his whisper to his partner was low enough that their superior couldn't hear him over the revving and popping sound of the motorized apparatus.

"I can't believe Frasier's Pier is burning," Johnny mumbled to Roy as the apparatus lurched forward. "I was just there with Lizzy two days ago."

Roy could see the unsettled look in Johnny's dark eyes. "So, how'd it go?"

"Oh…don't ask," Johnny said with a shrug cowering when Hank reached up to clang the bell.

Looking ahead, Roy could see the roads clogged with spectators all making their way towards the coast and the plume of dark smoke that was beginning to block out the setting sun. "So…Miss Elizabeth refused to let you court her?"

Johnny cut his dark eyes at his friend then leaned in a little closer so Chet wouldn't hear what he was about to say. "No…it wasn't that…it was the roller coaster."

"Oh," Roy rolled his blue eyes knowingly. "Yea…Joanne won't agree to ride on that thing either."

"No, Roy…Lizzy loved ii," Johnny remarked in a voice full of exasperation then briefly turned his face away from his friend.

Roy drew his eyebrows together turning his head to look his partner directly in the eyes. "Well, you're such a daredevil that…I don't see the problem."

Johnny huffed then leaned over to whisper in Roy's ear just as Mike made a sharp left turn. "Umph." He regripped his handhold on the new engine with his left hand and pressed his right hand down on top of his leather helmet. Once he'd steadied himself, he leaned in again and began his embarrassing story.

Roy listened intently, glad Hank had granted a brief interlude from the deep clanging of the bell. It allowed him to hear the entire story while fighting the urge to grin. "I'm sorry, my friend. I didn't know."

"Yea…I didn't either until it was too late," Johnny offered rather sheepishly.

Mike held the steering wheel with a white knuckled grip as buggies, pedestrians, bicycles and several black automobiles failed to yield to the new engine during the fourteen mile run to the coast.

"Looks like the ocean is on fire!" Marco mused out loud.

"God help us," Hank muttered then reached up to continue clanging the bell.

As soon as Mike pulled up to the scene, Chet was the first to hop off the vehicle. "Whoa! Only 27 minutes!" Chet announced loudly as the rest of the crew dismounted and began assessing the scene.

"Johnny…you ok?" Roy's concern for his partner was evident in his worried blue eyes.

Johnny leaned over beside the engine and answered Roy's question with a disgusting retching sound. As soon as the bout of vomiting subsided, Johnny wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Just like the roller coaster," he said through pale lips.

"Come on, Junior. We're through moving now so you should be alright in a minute." Roy half dragged Johnny over to the place where the rest of the crew were gathered awaiting their instructions.

"I knew it happened when I was on a boat but…but not on land." Johnny stood up then and for the first time got a good look at the disaster unfolding before them.

Thick smoke floated on the ocean breeze carrying with it the glowing embers from the casino and dance hall. They drifted aimlessly coming to rest on random canopies, quickly igniting and consuming them. Some of the onlookers were crying while others seemed to be wandering in a daze. Both exits were crowded with men, women and children all making their way off the large pier and onto the beach. A mass of voices shrieked in unison as one of the two main exits became blocked when the skating rink suddenly erupted in flames.

"Whole things gonna burn," Chet mumbled around his thick mustache realizing that his favorite attraction, the Crazy House, was falling victim to the inferno.

"Men," Hank called waving his left arm. "This way. Too risky to take men and equipment onto the pier so we've got to fight it from land. We've been assigned to protect the garage down the street." He turned quickly to glance behind him toward the Auto Inn Garage where he knew a 300 gallon fuel tank was stored.

"The carousels are going to be burned up too." Marco briefly reminisced riding the ornate amusement rides with one special lady not long after the pier opened fifteen months earlier.

"Roy, John!"

The two men looked up at the sound of their captain's panicked voice. What they saw made their hearts slam around inside their chests, and sent Johnny's stomach into another spasm.

"Babies? Where are the babies coming from?" Roy couldn't imagine why there were tiny newborns being rushed away from the pier by ladies in long flowing skirts and white tiny caps.

"Oh no!" Johnny recalled the unusual exhibit. "There's an exhibit for some new-fangled baby oven where premature babies are being kept."

_Baby oven? _Roy's mouth hung open as he tried to process what his partner had told him but the sight of Johnny quickly running towards the two nurses reminded him that he had rescues to perform. He loped as quickly as he could in the bulky uniform noting a frantic nurse waving them in her direction. The two men spent the next several minutes carrying tiny premature infants away from the place where they had been receiving free medical care from highly trained nurse in an exhibit for an incubator. A place that now had the newborns facing great peril both from the flames and the smoke that their underdeveloped lungs would no doubt reject.

Before the remaining crew could get to their appointed position at the garage, the formidable beast spewed its progeny across the narrow street to the residences and shops opposite the pier. Throngs of people rushed about carrying what few items they could carry to safety. Back on the doomed pier, some people sought refuge from the burning structure by jumping from the pier into the ocean while a few managed to escape by boat.

As soon as all the babies had been evacuated to safety, Roy and Johnny rushed to join their crew at the garage. They had just picked up their hose when radiant heat caused the flammable material to ignite, the large fuel tank soon blew high into the air sending the firemen scrambling for cover. They watched helplessly as the pier's observation balloon's tie down ropes were burned through releasing the balloon into the late afternoon breeze. The burning ropes snagged a flagpole sending the flaming airship some forty miles inland.

Roy watched helplessly as his partner succumbed to his distressed stomach twice more during the fierce battle. Eating smoke on an already queasy belly did not make fighting the fire any easier. His dark hair was plastered around his face beneath his stiff leather helmet which would have made his pale face seem pasty had it not been for the soot and ashes smeared on it.

"Cap, we're gonna lose this one too!"

Hank had made a run to the chief and was returning to his crew when he heard Mike's distressing yell. "Gather 'round," he motioned again pulling his men into a tight circle so they could hear him. "We're gonna retreat back past that next street. Chief's called for dynamite to blast us a better fire break."

"Huh?" Johnny didn't think he'd heard his captain correctly.

"We can't beat this thing with what we've got. We gotta take away what it's feeding on," Marco suggested.

"I know, I know," he confirmed his understanding in his most exasperated voice. "I just can't believe we're gonna deliberately destroy all this." Johnny waved a filthy arm around behind him indicating the row of shops they'd been trying hard to save.

"Fighting fire with fire…in a manner of speaking," Mike proposed.

"None of us like it, Johnny," Roy patted his friend on the back knowing the younger man did not easily accept defeat.

"We got here quickly…it just got outta hand before anyone could even call for help." Chet tried to offer some reassurance to the defeated looking men.

"We can talk about it later. Right now, let's get our equipment away from the blast area," Hank stood up straighter surveying the area before continuing. "Mike, get our new girl to a safe place so we all have a ride back home…and have what we need to fight the next one. We'll start up again as soon as the blasting is over."

The next few hours were spent losing the battle with the blaze on Frasier's Million Dollar Pier. The ocean breeze blew the choking smoke back across the faces of the brave men who valiantly fought the giant. The orange monster quickly spread devouring shops, residences and even the thundering roller coaster; nothing seemed able to stop the heated rampage of the diabolical demon.

Ultimately, the ocean breeze shifted aiding in the battle. By the end of the day, over 700 firemen had tried in vain to save the quarter mile long structure and its adjacent buildings. At least one person was dead, several others were missing and a multitude left homeless. The estimated loss was nearly three million dollars, most of which was uninsured. Six dejected and dirty faces stood staring at the smoldering remains of what had once been a major attraction along the coast of Ocean Park; the devastation sprawling across nearly six city blocks. The exhausted men trudged slowly back to their new engine and stepped weary feet onto her running boards. Mike struggled to summon the strength to turn the crank and start up the engine. It took three tries before the weary engineer was able to spark the Seagrave to life. As Mike pulled into traffic for the long trip home, Johnny cast one last long gaze over the smoky broken down skeleton of the roller coaster and pier pilings that had been the source of his embarrassing date with Miss Elizabeth; grateful that this particular battle was finally over.

E!

"Need anything, Mike?"

The familiar female voice snapped Mike out of his musings and back to the present day. "Oh…ah, no but thank you, Ryleigh," he said with smile.

"Ok, well just let me know if I can do anything."

"I appreciate your help," he responded then realized he did need a little help. "Oh, ah…do you think you could make me a copy of this article, please?"

"Certainly," Ryleigh stepped over to the table where Mike had the books spread out before him. She carefully accepted the book containing the article he had requested, her smile once again accenting her dimple.

Mike allowed his gaze to linger momentarily as she walked away from him then returned his attention to the next book in the stack. He turned several pages until another picture piqued his interest and before he knew it, he was lost in the grip of another historic disaster in Los Angeles County history.

E!

A/N: Frasier's Million Dollar Pier was destroyed by fire on September 3, 1912. The blaze started around 5:00 PM and appeared to be the result of a carelessly discarded cigarette in the living quarters of the casino. The information in this chapter was derived from newspaper articles and photographs from various internet resources about this terrible tragedy. Also, a couple of resources list the first motorized fire engine used by the Los Angeles Fire Department as being a 1909 Seagrave.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and to review/PM me. I appreciate you all so much!

Chapter 4

Hank smiled forlornly as he gazed upon the black and white pictures in the album. He was reminded of just how far the department had come since the days of the horse drawn apparatus.

"From horses to automobiles to boats…," his barely audible musings hesitated as he stared at a faded sepia photograph of the Lumber Schooner Sierra fire at the E. K. Wood Lumber Company Warf. The caption beneath it dated it to March 3, 1926. "Weelll," he whispered to himself. "Let's see what you men had to work with fifty years ago."

The longer he stared at the old photograph the more he was sure he could smell the burning wood of the schooner along with a hint of salty air. The earthy beige tones seemed to suddenly come alive with the colors of the brilliant blue sky, burnt umber planks of wood and the orange glowing fire. The smoke, lifted on the breeze from the water front, blew in a southerly direction as the shouts of men and the echo of bells filled his ears. He looked around him and saw Marco running to the water's edge, Chet directly behind him, as they carried a hose.

"That's it, Lopez…let's draft as much as we can." Hank looked around and saw his engineer busily working at the engine on the opposite end of the hose that Marco had just tossed into the depths of the water. The sudden creaking and groaning of the old schooner as she tilted toward the dock sent several men scrambling, especially a couple of fellows Hank recognized all too well.

"Hey, DeSoto, Gage…get back over here," he yelled waving his arm in summons.

A very breathless John Gage loped over to the place where Hank stood beside the engine. "Did you see that, Cap?" He turned his dark hair in the direction of the lilting vessel.

"Yea…I did. From the looks of it, you two got a close up view yourselves."

"Yes, Sir." DeSoto was heaving like his partner. "But Cap…you really gotta take a look at our boat doing her job."

"She's quite a lady, huh?" Mike's eyes sparkled at the thought of the newest addition to their fledgling department. "Ok, we're drafting, fellas."

Soon, the fire was under control and the wharf had been saved. The Lumber Schooner Sierra was lost but she was the only casualty as the firefighters managed to carry out an assault on the burning ship both from the dock as well as the water thanks to Boat #2.

"Hey fellas, want to come by my house for a little celebration now that the fire is out?" Chet looked around to make sure their superior wasn't around to be heard. "Just don't tell the Big Cheese," he said grinning at his own reference to Captain Stanley.

Johnny recognized the glimmer in Chet's blue eyes. "That depends…what kind of caper are you schemin' up now?"

Chet was known for having a contact at a local speakeasy and could, on occasion, manage to get a little alcohol for the men to drink. Lopez and DeSoto leaned in to listen as Mike kept a watchful eye for their captain.

"Fellas…I've got three bottles of some of the finest bathtub gin you've ever tasted," Chet released a gigantic smile from beneath his bushy mustache.

"How the hell do you manage to get your hands on hooch when…"

"Shut up, Johnny." Roy said, quickly interrupting his friend. "Who cares how he gets it…as long as he shares it with us."

"Yea…and after this disaster, I could sure use a drink."

"And how, Marco," Mike interjected. "Chet, you keep up the good work with your man and we'll keep helping you pay for it."

Five tired soot covered faces snickered as they each looked forward to a relaxing night of camaraderie mixed with a few glasses of the intoxicating, and thanks to prohibition, illegal beverage.

The sounds faded and the picture of the burning schooner faded from color back to the sepia of the small photograph on the page of the book laid out on the table in front of Hank. "So glad we have better equipment…and no longer have to depend on Chet's connection with the mob so that we can enjoy a few drinks together; even if they wouldn't have included me." Hank chuckled as he closed the photo album and reached for the next one in the stack.

E!

At the library, Mike tilted his watch and realized it was almost lunch time. He thought briefly about asking Ryleigh to join him for a sandwich at the deli across the street but then thought better of it. His shyness always seemed to make an appearance when a pretty face was around. He turned one more page in the large album and felt his eyes go wide.

"Ahh," he gasped out loud and then found himself unable to control his laughter. "Aha, ahh ha ha." The image of the engine before him and the attire of the firefighters brought back memories of Roy and Johnny that he knew he'd never forget. Continuing to snicker and wipe away his laughter tears, he took a closer look at the details of the old picture and the caption beneath it dating it to October 3, 1933 but as his crystal blue eyes perused the story associated with the photos, the tears of laughter reddening his eyes were replaced by a different kind of moisture that threatened to spill over onto his pink cheeks. His laughter abruptly halted and the memories of the 'A' shift engine crew at Station 51 laughing at Roy and Johnny in their historic uniforms for the Firemen's parade a couple of years earlier morphed into images of all six members of the crew dressed in like manner and called to fight a fire like none other they had ever been called to fight before.

E!

The Great Depression was in full swing in the Los Angeles County area; a situation that brought out thousands of men who were desperate for work. One of the projects in the fall of 1933 included working in Griffith Park. Over 3,700 men were cleaning and building a new road on that fateful Tuesday afternoon.

"It sure is hot for the 3rd of October," William announced to the rest of the group gathered around to listen to the 1933 World Series on a rickety radio during their lunch break.

"Strange weather," another man commented. "The summer was rather cool and now the fall is hot…something bad's gonna happen for sure."

"Alright men," the straw boss announced, "that's enough yapping. Grab your tools and let's get back to work." A dozen men in white shirts and dark trousers pulled their suspender straps back up over their shoulders and reached for their shovels.

Several crews were cleaning up scrub brush when a golfer at the park noticed a small plume of smoke rising in the distance. Several men near the origin of the smoke made their way to an oak tree where a small pile of debris appeared to have been set on fire. Using their shovels, the handful of men attempted to put out the fire but the winds blew the burning embers across the park and the fire was soon out of hand.

Mike turned the engine onto the dusty dirt road heading to the scene of the brush fire. The remaining five crew members all road in quiet solitude contemplating the battle to which they had been summoned.

"God almighty," Hank said softly as they approached the now raging inferno.

"Winds got it, huh?"

"Yea, I'd say so, Mike." Hank turned quickly glancing over the four men behind them, each one in full firefighting regalia. Red shirts were tucked into navy pants secured by dark suspenders, yellow kerchiefs around their necks completing the ensemble. Each man sported a dark helmet identifying him as a Los Angeles Fireman. Each one also wore a grim face; as professionally trained firemen, they knew the danger they were facing.

Minutes turned to hours as the men shoveled dirt on top of flames, using their boots to tamp out the hot tongues that continued licking their way further into the park. Back fires were started and controlled by the firemen and firebreaks were established while Chet surprised his crewmates with a special skill they didn't know he had. Eventually, the blaze coughed and hissed in death throws until if finally relinquished its stronghold on the dry brittle earth of Griffith Park.

By the time the six weary dusty firemen gathered back around their engine, their faces spoke volumes in the quietness of the evening. One man summoned the courage to speak what all the others were thinking.

"Why, Cap?"

"That's hard to say, Roy." Hank took a long drink from the canteen Marco had passed to him. He had to quench his parched throat before he could continue. "From what I've been told, there were over 3,000 men working here today…most carrying shovels no different than these." He emphasized his point by tossing his dusty tool into the black and red rig.

"Then how'd it get away from them so fast?"

Hank looked into the dark eyes of his youngest crew member. He saw through his sweat streaked dirty face and knew the real question Johnny was asking.

"Well, the wind shifted on them. You know how hard it is to outrun a fire when you're going uphill?"

"But Cap," Chet spoke up through sad blue eyes. "Why were they down in Mineral Wells Canyon in the first place?" He rinsed his gritty mouth and spit the remnants of the water behind the engine. "They never should've gone down that narrow trail in the first place."

"I heard they were setting a bunch of back fires too…they just spread it themselves." Mike was frustrated by the devastation.

"Men," Hank looked at each man individually. "From what I've been told, there may be as many as sixty men who died out here today."

Chet let out a low whistle while Marco mumbled something in the language of his ancestors.

"There were a lot of rugged men with shovels out here doing what they thought was right." He hesitated wiping a filthy hand across his forehead. "But they didn't have what we…," he hesitated waving his arm around in the direction of several other groups of firemen in the area. "They didn't have the training and the knowledge…and the skills that we have."

Hank removed his yellow kerchief and doused it with water. He used the wet cloth to wipe his face soothing the sunburn on his cheeks. He heard the slamming of car doors and saw Pete and Jim stepping out of their squad car and motioning him over. "Excuse me, fellas."

Marco, Chet and Roy made their way to the shade of a nearby tree; each man mimicking the actions of their captain in an effort to rid themselves of the grime and soot from their afternoon battling the gates of hell.

Johnny turned his back to the others and leaned his head against the warm metal of the engine. His mind kept replaying the hideous sight of the men who had been trapped on the hillside scurrying in vain to outrun the flames licking so closely at their heels until it finally over took them. He couldn't get the smell out of his nostrils of the burnt flesh of men who had been living and healthy just a few hours earlier, who only wanted to make a little money for their family during the worst depression in the nation's history. And he knew no matter how long he lived, he'd never be able to rid his memory of the agonizing screams of the men who had found themselves trapped on the hillside as the swiftly moving flames overtook them, snuffing out their lives much too soon. He gulped back the bile rising into his throat as he fought a battle with the contents of his stomach. It wasn't the first time he'd been called upon to remove charred human remains from a scene but it was by far the most deadly fire he'd ever battled. He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder causing him to lift his dark dusty head.

"You alright, Gage?"

Johnny cut his dark eyes at the caring blue ones he saw looking back at him. He quickly glanced around to see that the remainder of the crew had walked away leaving just the two of them. "Yea…I reckon."

"It won't ever get any easier, John." Mike squeezed the shoulder of their newest member. "At least it shouldn't…life is precious and this is…well,…it's unimaginable. It's the worst I've ever seen too. But, you have to look at what we managed to accomplish..…not what we didn't."

"Wha…what do you mean?"

Mike patted the dusty shoulder of his young crewmate. "Take a seat. We're gonna be here for a while making sure there's nothing left to flame back up. Besides…," he looked in the direction of the dirt road and noticed Hank talking to a couple of law enforcement officers. "Cap's talking to the coppers and that'll take a while."

"Why not…my dogs sure are tired." Johnny sat beside his engineer on the running board of the engine, elbows resting on his knees and head held low.

"Gage, we got here as fast as we could, considering the distance we had to travel. Like Cap said, we used our training and knowledge to contain this fire and we managed to get it under control in short order. We set the back fires where they should have been set and used them to stop this thing from taking any more lives." Mike stared at the back of Johnny's head, hearing the sniffles the young man was trying hard to deny. "Hell, I didn't even know Chet could operate that heavy road machinery until he'd hopped on board, lowered the blade and started creating a fire break on that ridge," he said looking in the direction of the place where Chet had ultimately parked the road machine he'd commandeered.

"Mike…we didn't save those men who...," he began through clenched teeth.

"We didn't save them because they couldn't be saved, Johnny." Mike again allowed his left hand to rest comfortingly on Johnny's right shoulder knowing his young friend needed his support now; he remembered how Hank had done the same for him not so many years earlier after a particularly bad fire. He continued to assume the role of big brother and mentor. "They were deep in the canyon, the trail was steep and narrow…," he thought a moment and then changed tactics. "Tell me…what should we have done to save them? What would you have done differently?"

Johnny leaned his face into the palms of his hands momentarily then huffed. He searched his addled brain then looked up shaking his dark hair. "I can't think of anything we could've done…not one damn thing." He leaned back staring into the distance with dark hollow eyes. "I…I guess that's the problem." He exhaled harshly again, coughing from the dust and smoke he'd inhaled. "But I want to make sure this never happens again, Stoker." He looked into the crystal eyes of his engineer. "Whatever it takes, I don't ever want to feel this helpless…useless… again."

E!

"And that's why we need to educate the public, Gage. The more information we can get in the hands of the people, the more lives we can save," he said staring once more at the pictures of the welfare workers with shovels in hand clearing away the brush before the fire swept through.

"Talking to yourself, Mike?"

Mike looked up into pretty framed hazel eyes and felt the heat of embarrassment gripping his ears. "Oh…uh…well," he stammered, his face turning as red as the shirts the crew had been wearing in his daydream.

"I think it's cute," she said sauntering up to his side.

"Cute, huh?"

"Yea," she flashed him a pearly white smile.

_Ask her, Stoker…just ask her!_

"Ahem," he cleared his throat before he continued. "Can I, uh…come back another day and finish my research?"

Ryleigh tried hard to hide her disappointment but Mike could see it in her downcast eyes. "Sure, no problem." She cut her eyes at him somewhat sarcastically as she turned around. "It's a public library."

Mike stood up scraping the legs of his chair on the hard wood floor. His gut was aching as he watched Ryleigh walk out of the room and back to her desk. _Stoker, you're a coward…you fight fires for a living but you can't even ask a pretty lady out for lunch,_ he chided himself as he stepped into the midday sun and headed across the busy street for a quick bite to eat.

E!

A/N: The Griffith Park fire was one of the deadliest in Los Angeles history. The final death toll was officially listed as 29 but poor record keeping brings that number into question. Most died at the scene in Mineral Wells Canyon when the swift moving fire roared up a hill much faster than the men could reach the top. Two succumbed to their injuries later in the hospital. The men were untrained in firefighting. Once the trained firefighters arrived the fire was contained fairly quickly.


	5. Chapter 5

Warning: Child death

Chapter 5

Mike poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table, opening up the sports section of the paper. He was ready for his shift, having arrived a little earlier than usual which pleased the Engineer of 'C' shift as it allowed him to get home a little sooner to celebrate his anniversary with his wife of ten years. Mike stared at the article about the current World Series while his mind wandered back to the article about the Griffith Park fire that had occurred during the 1933 World Series. He was deep in thought about the department's response to that horrible fire, slowly sipping his coffee, when the 'A' shift paramedics walked in. He was in mid-swallow of the hot java when he heard a familiar voice.

"Mornin', Mike."

Mike's gaze shifted upward to the source of the voice but the sight before him caused him to spew hot coffee across the table, wetting the newspaper and strangling himself. "Ahu…ahuhu…," he coughed, gagged and snorted into his closed fist feeling the burning beverage being forcefully rejected by his lungs through his mouth and, unfortunately, his nose as well.

"Damn, Stoker…you a'right?" Johnny grabbed a handful of paper towels while Roy quickly stepped over to Mike to offer whatever support he could.

"I..eh…ahu…ahuhu." Mike was unable to utter a single word. His head was throbbing and tears were streaming down his reddened face. The gasping sound he was making with each inhalation would have been alarming to anyone else but the men in the room knew that if he was making noise and able to cough than he would eventually dislodge the offending liquid from his throat.

"Easy, Mike." Roy pulled out a chair and sat down beside his friend. "Deep breaths, cough it up."

Johnny kept a watchful eye on Mike and Roy while he cleaned up the splatters of coffee. He turned quickly as the kitchen door opened to the sound of the Irish lineman making his morning entrance.

"I hope that's Stoker's coffee I sme…..oh…ah, hahaha…Gage, you look ridiculous!"

Johnny exchanged a quizzical look with his partner who remained at Mike's coughing side. Only then did he realize what had likely caused Mike to shower the kitchen with his coffee before strangling on the remnants trickling down his throat.

"Uh…sorry, Mike." Johnny swallowed feeling his adam's apple rubbing on the yellow kerchief tied around his neck.

"Yea, I guess we forgot to warn you about today," Roy snickered from behind his sparkling blue eyes. "We're teaching first aid at the Senior Citizen's Center over on Carson Street at 0900 and Cap thought they'd enjoy it if we wore these outfits."

"Soooo," Chet began sauntering between the two paramedics while Mike continued coughing, albeit less violently, in the background. He took in the sight of them dressed in dark pants with long-sleeved red shirts and black suspenders. "Are you driving that old broken down engine?"

Johnny rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Marco entering the kitchen.

"Hey, guys." Marco stopped short and did a double take. "Did I just walk through a time warp?"

Mike jerked his red face up and quickly nodded his affirmation to his shift mate while trying his best to force a grin on his contorted face.

"A'right, a'right…look, no we are not driving the old engine. And," Johnny huffed lifting his finger to accentuate his next thought but was once again interrupted.

"Whatcha gonna do if one of those old ladies forgets her manners and grabs your ass, Gage?" Chet snickered.

"He'll ask her out, Kelly," responded a deep baritone voice from the doorway.

"Oh, ah…mornin', Cap."

"Morning, John," Hank nodded, watching the lopsided grin cross his younger paramedic's blushing face.

"Yea, and for once he might not get turned down."

"Oh, ha ha, Marco," Johnny jokingly scoffed.

"Well, he's got a point there, Junior."

"Oh not you too, Roy?"

"Just don't…uhum…take her out for…ahu…coffee." Mike's voice was somewhere between a croak and a squeak. "Could prove…uhum… fatal."

Hank lifted the pot of coffee to pour himself a cup, turning during the process to acknowledge Mike's comment with a grin. "Um, he has a good point there, fellas….Gage?" He lifted the steaming cup to his lips waiting for Johnny to make eye contact. "Don't ask for any phone numbers, ok Pal?"

"No problem, Cap." Johnny tossed the used paper towels into the trash can then helped himself to his first cup of coffee as well.

E!

Hank handed out chore assignments at the close of roll call then retreated to his office. He was reviewing paper work when he heard the squad head out to the Senior Center. He smiled to himself thinking about the reaction the participants were going to have to the way Johnny and Roy were dressed. He was still wearing the grin when there was a gentle knock on his open door.

"Come in."

"Ah, got a minute?"

"Sure, Mike," Hank said still smiling. "Come on in." He turned to look at his engineer and saw the obvious question on his face. "Oh…I was just thinking about how those old ladies at the Senior Center are going to handle seeing our paramedics dressed like that," he said by way of explaining the silly grin on his face.

Mike nodded as understanding crept into his thoughts, settling in the form of an idea. "I went to the library like you asked and did a little research. I was, um… I was just trying to think of a way to make our history come alive and…I think that was it," he said casting a thumb over his shoulder to the empty spot where the squad normally rested.

Hank slapped down the pencil he'd been holding and cackled loudly patting Mike on the shoulder. "Oh, Mike…that's brilliant!"

"Of course, that means we'd hafta let them in on it."

Hank leaned back in his chair contemplating his next move. "Yea…yea, I guess that's true but," he leaned forward before continuing. "We aren't really keeping it a secret. I mean, as long as Johnny and Chet don't do any of the talking we should be fine…right?"

"Cap, their antics around the station never get carried over to a call. It's almost like they have alter egos when they're here and then when the tones sound they leave those characters behind." Mike hoped he was getting his point across to his superior. "I mean, don't take this the wrong way but…maybe you're selling those two a little short? I've never seen them behave less than professionally except when they're here."

Hank looked into the blue eyes of his second in command. He exhaled audibly realizing that Mike was exactly right. Crossing an ankle over a knee, Hank leaned back in his seat one last time. "Damn, you know you're right. I've got the best crew at this station. No, the best in the county so why can I only think about the negative aspects of those two?"

Mike grinned feeling relief coursing through his veins knowing that Hank's question was merely a rhetorical one. "Well, you know that Roy will keep Johnny in check and Marco will do the same for Chet."

"Yea…and you'll keep me grounded when I let my nervousness about McConikee cause me to doubt the ability of my own men." Hank's comment was a statement, not a question. "Thanks, Mike. I… well…please don't let the others…"

Mike held out his hand in a confirming handshake with his Captain. "I'm a man of my word, Cap. They'll only know if you tell them. I may not understand why you did what you did to the chief's hat but I promise you that the rest of the crew will never know that you…ah, that you have a human side," he said with a swift almost imperceptible wink.

Mike stood, grateful for the relief he saw in Hank's eyes. "I better get back to work in the kitchen."

"Thanks, Pal. I really mean that." Hank coughed slightly realizing he was feeling a bit embarrassed. "Did you make any progress at the library?"

"Yes…and no," the engineer quipped.

"Let me guess. You got caught up in the research and didn't finish, right?"

"Exactly, but I'm going back when we get off shift," Mike said turning to head out the door. _I still have some unfinished business at the library and her name is Ryleigh Abrams._

E!

Hank stayed in his office silently berating himself for doubting his two youngest crew members. He knew that Mike would never tell a single soul about his earlier apprehension but that didn't make Hank's burden of shame any lighter. He was a captain and as such his men needed to know he believed in them. He leaned an elbow on the edge of his desk, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. His lanky body was turned sideways of the desk allowing him to slouch in his seat with his long legs stretched out toward the closed office door. He stared unseeingly at the stack of paper work on his desk and allowed his mind to wander back over the most disturbing photographs he'd viewed while at Headquarters a couple of days ago. He tried to imagine how he would've handled the scene…and how his men would've handled it, as well; especially his two youngest.

E!

_Mike ran the old rag down the curvature of the driver's side front fender of the old 1939 Ford open cab engine. He loved the way he was still able to make his reflection beam from the softly curving fender where it arched gracefully into the running board. "You might have a few years on ya, ole girl but don't you worry; I'll take good care of you," he purred. _

_The sound of whistling in time to the clomping of boots echoing across the bay made him look up briefly. _

"_Hey, what's buzzin', cousin?"_

_Mike shook his head with a giggle and returned to his task ignoring the question Chet had asked knowing the younger man wasn't expecting a reply. He cut his eyes in the direction of the common room where the sight of curly dark hair ducking through the swinging door made him chuckle to himself one more time. He paused just long enough to hear the whistling start back up again and a huge smile attached itself to his handsome face. Mike knew how much John Gage hated to listen to Chet Kelly's whistling and that, if he listened for just a moment longer, he'd hear Johnny's voice grumbling at the young lineman. _

" _Chet, don't tell me you actually LIKED that kiddy movie?"_

"_Johnny, why can't you stop bein' a fuddy-duddy?" Chet rolled his eyes in exasperation._

"_A fuddy-duddy? Do you even know the lyrics, Fathead?" Johnny chided, his ire building._

"_Yep, sure do. Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay. My, oh my, what a wonderful day..." Chet's response was filled with sarcasm._

"_Why don't you shut your pie hole?" Johnny's frustration was evident in his voice. "You're all wet, you know that?"_

"_If ya don't like my singin' then why don't ya just scram, Gage?"_

_Johnny raised his finger in the direction of the shorter man but Roy cut him off before he could continue the argument._

"_Alright, Junior," Roy stepped in placing an arm on his partner's shoulder and ushering him out of the room into the bay. "Don't let him snap your cap."_

_Johnny allowed himself to be guided away from Chet, looking over his shoulder at the shorter man and huffing. "Aarrgh, sometimes he just…," he stopped short staring at the gentle way their engineer was polishing the rig. "Mike?" He couldn't stop the lopsided smile that crossed his face._

"_Yea?" Mike looked up from his kneeling position polishing the fender. _

"_You, ah…you gonna drive her or make whoopee?" Johnny laughed at his own sense of humor; especially when he saw his engineer's face turn a color similar to the fender he seemed to be so tenderly caressing. _

"_Nah…she's a little young for me, Johnny. She's not even ten years old," Mike deadpanned._

"_He got you with that one, Junior," Roy smirked._

_Johnny opened his mouth to respond, quickly closing it and reopening it a couple of times while his mind tried desperately to find the right response to Mike's reply when suddenly a rocketing explosion in the distance rattled the glass window panes in the station causing the two standing firemen to cower back against their new Ford First Aid Wagon, shocked expressions overtaking their faces._

"_What the…" Hank stopped himself from swearing, leaving the offending word hanging onto the tip of his tongue as he rushed from his office._

"_I didn't do it, Cap…honest, I didn't touch nothin'," Chet shouted defensively as he ran through the door of the common room nearly colliding with his partner who was exiting the latrine._

_Six startled firemen stood at the open bay door looking northward seeing what looked like a mushroom cloud rising into the mid-morning winter sky._

"_Is that…?" Marco tried to give voice to the thoughts scurrying through the minds of the other firemen standing there that fateful day._

_Each man stood transfixed at the horizon when the callout came through. Hank was the first to hear it and immediately pushed his crew into action. "Let's go, men!"_

_Roy could still hear the thundering roar in his ears as he cranked up the new shiny red wagon. He waited for his partner to join him then pulled out onto the street turning north toward whatever had caused the explosion. He'd driven a couple of blocks before he realized that the roar he was hearing was actually the sound of blood rushing through his ears from the adrenaline now pumping with lightning fast speed through his veins. Johnny sat unusually still, helmet strapped to his short dark hair, staring into the distance. Neither man uttered a word._

_Mike pulled on his coat and helmet assuming his spot behind the wheel of the red engine. By sheer instinct alone, he knew when the other three members of his crew had joined him on the rig and immediately pulled forward out of the firehouse behind the rounded back of the newest member of their station, the little sister of his engine. He didn't see Hank lean over and turn on the siren and the slow rising wail startled him out of his trance forcing him to clench his jaw muscles even tighter. Behind him, Marco and Chet held on tightly from their position on the tailboard, staring over the helmets of their superiors at the dusty cloud of debris and smoke which was their destination._

_Roy chanced a glance at his partner and found him staring back. Both quickly looked away, Gage coughing slightly as a cover-up._

"_Say, Roy…uh, you don't think this is….I mean, could it really be…"_

"_Nah," Roy began, blue eyes trained on their destination while his chin strap dangled in front of his throat. "We're the only ones with that capability and after what happened in Japan…well, it just can't be that or else we'd all be dead by now." His voice faded as he recalled his time in the Army just a couple of years earlier._

"_Well then…what the hell is it?"_

"_I don't know, Junior…but we're about to find out."_

"_Ok, turn left here…uh, it's supposed to be 924 East Pico Boulevard so we're still about a mile…DAMN!" Johnny's expressive face couldn't hide his shock._

_Both men were astounded as buildings on both sides of the street had shattered windows. As they crept forward closing in on their destination, a few even began to sport cracks along their exterior walls. Throngs of people rushed along the sidewalks beneath dangling telephone lines. A few women were standing with their fingers covering their open mouths as the morning breeze blew their victory roll styled hair into disarray. Rushing past them, several men were rolling up their shirtsleeves or holding on to their hats making their way to the rising pillar of smoke. Shoulders bumped against shoulders in much the same way that cars were blocking each other in a grid lock, some fleeing while others were trying to reach the scene. _

_Mike began honking his horn when he saw Roy easing to a stop. Hank pursed his lips together when he saw Johnny leaning out his window yelling and waving frantically at the vehicles clogging their access route. Finally, the dark colored cars managed to part enough for the emergency crews to squeeze through and continue on closer to their destination._

_Chet held on with a white knuckled grip using only one hand, his other being occupied attempting to maintain his helmet on top of his curly dark hair. He managed to peek at his partner standing on his left and saw the shocked expression in Marco's ebony eyes. Looking over the other man's shoulder, Chet saw damaged buildings, broken glass, fearful haunted faces and even a semi-flattened picket fence…then nothing but blackened charred rubble. The acrid smell of burning wood laced with chemicals permeated the air around them. Marco stood captivated by the sight of several local clergymen lifting the hem of their brown robes as they sprinted past spectators and he knew they would be anointing the injured and dying with oil. He closed his eyes briefly lifting up his own prayer._

_By the time they were within a couple of blocks of the address, there were no longer any buildings standing. Roy eased the wagon to a stop and Hank saw Johnny leap from the vehicle heading for a small crowd gathered around something unseen by the two firemen but the sight of a child's bicycle lying twisted on its side sent bile rushing up the back of Roy's throat._

"_Fireman…spread out!" Johnny pushed his way past the hovering men and women and saw the bloody body of a preteen boy lying lifeless on the sidewalk; a large, twisted, bloody metal pipe was blown against the concrete and brick steps of a partially collapsed building, evidence of the cause of the child's death. He licked his lips fighting the dryness that always over took him on difficult calls then leaned down trying to determine if the child still had a heartbeat. He slowly lifted his head closing his eyes and sending a silent curse into eternity. Gulping, he stood up removing his coat and respectfully covered the child's body before making his way back to the wagon where Roy stood opening the back doors. He didn't need to tell his partner anything; his face said it all._

_Roy could tell by the look on Johnny's face that the child was dead. He reached inside and removed a clean sheet so as to offer the as yet unknown victim a bit of dignity in death by covering his remains from the gawking eyes of onlookers and allowing Johnny to reclaim his coat for the gruesome task ahead of them. _

_It wasn't until after the youngster was properly covered that Johnny began to hear the agonizing screams of the injured along with the burning and popping sounds the multiple fires were causing. The smoke was thick and carried with it a hint of an unusual odor. Coughing into his closed fist, he returned to join the rest of his crew for their assignments._

"_Looks like a tinker toy factory exploded! What was it, Cap?"_

_Hank looked into the blue eyes of the young Irishman. "Chief says it was the O'Connor Electroplating Company." Hank pointed back over his shoulder as his men gathered around. "Roy, you and John grab some stretchers and see if you can help with the rescue of the missing. Mike, get us set up so we can start at that corner." He pointed between Marco and Chet in the direction of the area his station was to man but noted Chet's wide-eyed stare. Turning, the older man saw the reason for Chet's owl eyes. "Go," he ordered._

_Chet knew the command was for him and he wasted no time in heading for the pretty young lady now walking aimlessly towards the smoldering pit formerly known as the 900 block of East Pico. Before he reached her he could smell the burnt scent of her beige tattered dress that hung in remnants off her pale freckled shoulders. Her chestnut hair still held a semblance of a singed crocheted olive green snood with sections now limply blowing in the breeze across her blank face. Soot and dust mixed with streaks of dried blood splotched the bruises quickly forming on every visible patch of skin; skin tinged an eerie green color from the chemicals in the explosion. Blood ran down her left calf which remained partially covered by her torn stocking as she limped along on only one dark brown shoe._

"_Miss?" Chet reached out for her but couldn't decide where he could make physical contact that wouldn't cause her pain. He held his hands a few inches away from her as he called out to her again. "Miss, are…uh, here lemme help you."_

_The young woman's pale blue eyes seemed to look in his direction but they weren't seeing the young Irishman poised to offer his assistance. Somehow, her eyes were still seeing the roof of the building blown high in the air and coming back down shattering everything nearby. Her ears weren't hearing his calming voice but only the echoes of the screams of the dying in grotesque harmony with the rumbling of buildings too weak to stand and the unending wails of sirens as more and more firemen were summoned to the scene of complete devastation. Finally, her consciousness could handle her new reality no longer and Chet stood mortified as her eyes rolled back and her knees buckled. Somehow, he managed to catch her before she fell and eased her to the ground. He quickly covered her with his own coat waving frantically in Roy's direction. _

_Roy saw Chet's panicky summons and hurriedly made his way to the woman now lying at Chet's knees. "Whatcha got?"_

_The younger man looked into the blue eyes of Roy DeSoto and told him everything without uttering a word. He reached down and gently brushed her dark tresses away from her battered face. Roy continued his quick assessment and knew she was in shock from the event. He found no obvious life-threatening injury. "Chet, get a stretcher. We need to move her away from here so she can be transported to a hospital." _

_Roy removed Chet's coat from the young woman replacing it with a white sheet pulled up around her neck to offer her some warmth in the cool February morning air. As soon as Chet returned with the flimsy stretcher, the two men gently lifted her up and onto the light colored canvas. Each man grabbed a handhold on the wooden poles flanking the rugged material and lifted her off the cold ground. They quickly made their way to the grassy area where the injured were being gathered for transport to the nearest hospital. They carefully lowered her back down removing her from the stretcher; it would be needed to remove others, both living and deceased. Once this feat was accomplished, Roy looked at the younger man._

"_You alright?"_

_Chet nodded as he shoved his arms back into the sleeves of his coat. "Yea, let's go."_

_A block away, Johnny hustled toward the sound of crying coming from within a pile of debris. "Hello? Hey, can ya hear me?"_

"_Y-yes…please help." _

_The voice Johnny heard was faint and frail, leaving him wondering if the victim was a woman or a child. At the moment, there was a person alive in the nightmare of wooden splinters and twisted metal comprising the corpse that only minutes earlier had been a thriving workplace. Chet and Roy aided Johnny in removing more of the debris until a tiny narrow hole was opened._

"_Keep talkin' so I can find ya," Johnny yelled again as he threw another flat board away from the pile._

"_I-I'm down h-here."_

_Johnny's heart leaped into his throat. This time there was no doubt, the voice belonged to a small boy. "Ok, fellas…I got it. I can get in."_

_Hank stood a few feet away in a location that allowed him to watch Mike and Marco battling their assigned blaze and to see the rest of his crew continue their rescue efforts. "How does he do that?" Hank was mesmerized by the way Johnny was able to slither into the opening that Hank was sure wouldn't accommodate a house cat. He watched with pride as the young fireman managed to lift the small child out of the rubble into the waiting arms of Roy DeSoto. Then a few moments later, he felt his heart torn from his chest as Johnny and Chet removed the body of the young boy's father. The man was a salesman who had decided to allow his young son to accompany him to the electroplating company to drop off some paperwork. Now, it would be the place that ultimately took the father away from his son far too soon._

_Chet stuck his hand out to Johnny to assist him from the tight quarters of the pit. "Here, Gage."_

"_Thanks," Johnny said accepting the proffered hand but when he stepped back out of the debris, a curious sight caught his attention. "What's that thing?"_

_Chet spun his head around looking over his shoulder where he saw a man standing in front of a box and talking at it, or perhaps he was talking to the man who seemed to be in charge of the box. The talking man was gesturing behind him as if trying to explain the scene to the man with the box. "Huh, that's a weird bird. Wonder what he's up to?"_

"_I dunno, but we don't have time to deal with him. We've got people that need our help." Johnny had no desire to stand around and stare at a crazy man talking to a box. He and Chet passed behind the man headed toward their next assignment but both of them had their ears trained on what the unknown man was saying._

"_Ladies and gentlemen, this is Dick Lane of W6XYZ coming to you live from this scene of total devastation…nothing remains of the O'Connor Electroplating Company building as you can see behind me. It seems that hundreds are hurt and I've seen at least two stretchers brought out with bodies covered by white sheets. Ladies and gentlemen, if you can hear me, please stay away from this section of the city so that the firemen and policemen can do their jobs. This…this is completely overwhelming to witness."_

_Johnny arched an eyebrow over his shoulder as he and Chet passed by. "Who the hell's he talkin' to?"_

"_I think he's coo-coo," the shorter man mused._

"_C'mere! Hurry!"_

_The two firemen looked for the source of the call and saw a fireman from another part of the city trying to pry a large section of shelves from a fellow firefighter. Chet and Johnny rushed to his aid, neither man knowing that their actions were being watched carefully by their superior. They also had no idea that they were witnessing the first live televised coverage of a disaster._

_For hours these scenes replayed themselves over and over again before Hank's eyes as his men joined forces with many others, rescuing the injured and removing the remains of the deceased from the area surrounding the six foot deep crater caused by the explosion. Unknown to the responding emergency personnel, they were also being watched live by the approximately 350 households in Los Angeles who owned television sets on February 20, 1947. _

_E!_

Loud dual banging sounds jolted Hank Stanley out of his historical reflection. His paramedics were back and, he hoped, were headed to the locker room to change into their modern day uniforms. He straightened himself sitting upright in his desk chair and smiled when he heard the familiar banter between his younger paramedic and younger lineman. "Mike," he began in a soft voice meant only for his own ears. "You're right…a couple of idiots in quarters but very professional on runs…both in the here and now and in years gone by."

E!

A/N: The explosion at the O'Connor Electroplating Company killed 17 and injured approximately 150. It left a six foot crater twenty-two feet wide where the building once stood. It is believed that the chemicals that required refrigeration became unstable as a result of the refrigeration unit failing approximately an hour before the explosion. The chief chemist, Robert Magee and his assistant, Alice Iba were alleged to have inserted a piece of plastic into a chemical solution which triggered the explosion. Their bodies were never found. Many remains were recovered in pieces as a result of the horrific blast. A young boy of 10-12 years was killed when a 15 foot piece of twisted metal was hurled a full block away over a building and struck him while he was riding his bicycle. A young man was with his salesman father at the company when the explosion occurred. He was rescued by firemen but his father died in the explosion. Several clergymen were seen offering comfort and anointing with holy oil those who lay injured and dying at the scene. This was the first time a disaster was broadcast live on television. Dick Lane was the reporter for W6XYZ which was granted a broadcasting license two days later as KTLA Channel 5. As a result of this disaster, the City Council passed ordinances giving fire and health officials more authority in regulating dangerous chemicals.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews, encouragement and PM's. This chapter doesn't include a look back in time but it does set the stage so to speak for the next trip down memory lane. I hope you enjoy it.

Yesterday's Embers

Chapter 6

The remainder of the shift was uneventful. There were the routine medical runs for the squad and a few minor fires for the engine including a small blaze at an unoccupied beauty salon. A couple of automobile collisions during the night kept the crew from getting any restful sleep and were the only call outs requiring the skills of the entire station. Finally, the crew was able to get a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep before wake-up tones aroused them from their brief bout of slumber.

"Arrgguh!" Chet groaned throwing off the covers and swinging his legs over the edge of his bunk.

"Station 51 – KMG365," Captain Stanley growled out his acknowledgement before pulling up his suspenders from his bunker pants. Turning his back to the radio, he looked at his engineer rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he slowly stood. "Mike, how 'bout getting us some coffee started, will ya pal?" He hesitated, waiting for an acknowledgement and was rewarded with an almost inaudible grunt from the sleepy engineer.

Marco rounded the corner just as Mike pulled open the dorm door. "Man, 'B' shift can NOT get here soon enough," he grumbled as he trudged towards the latrine.

Hank waited as Chet and Roy shuffled their way to the latrine behind Marco then fell in line, his own personal needs making themselves known. He tossed a glance over his shoulder to make sure John was awake and was greeted with a large open mouth yawn from the dark haired paramedic as he made his way out the door toward the kitchen, apparently his bladder could wait.

One by one 'B' shift arrived with each man leaving as soon as he was replaced with the exception of Mike and Hank. Even though their replacements had arrived, the two men from 'A' shift had taken their time updating them on the events of the previous shift and then together made their way to their respective vehicles.

Mike walked in silence as he followed his superior across the back parking lot; he had waited all shift for Hank to mention the idea to the others in the crew but no such revelation was ever made.

"Uh, Cap?"

Hank stalled his strides and turned sideways to face the younger man. "Yea?"

"You, ah, are you having second thoughts about bringing in the rest of the guys on the project?"

Hank grimaced, "No, not really. I just need to get it solidified in my mind first, ya know? I know the others will support it…I mean, I don't see how anybody could be against it…I just…" Hank hesitated looking down at his shadow around his feet for a moment before looking back into the sun-filled face of Mike. "I guess I just want to have all the details in place before they come on board."

Mike squinted into the glare of the morning sun. "Yea, I can see that. But, we are going to present this as a crew right?"

Hank smiled, patting his engineer on the shoulder as they both turned back towards their vehicles. "You bet, Mike. We're a team here….all of us. And when this goes through, it'll be for all of us…the whole county!"

E!

The following morning, Mike awoke to the sound of rain on his roof. "Ugh," he moaned propping himself up on one elbow to check the time. His previous shift had left him exhausted and even though he wanted to get to the library, and a certain pretty librarian, to finish his research he certainly didn't want to do it in the rain. So, he quickly dropped his head back on his pillow and rolled onto his side, curling into the blankets allowing the hypnotic sounds of the pelting raindrops to carry him back to blissful sleep.

Two hours later he pulled into a soggy parking spot in front of his favorite branch of the Los Angeles County Public Library. Rather than using an umbrella, he simply jumped out and ran up the steps and through the front door. Again, the familiar musty smell of aging books permeated his nostrils as he closed the creaking door. He turned around, pulling his shoulders back to straighten his posture and headed toward the dark wooden circulation desk in only a few long strides. He nervously cast a glance around but didn't see the person he was looking for. An older lady, perusing through a stack of library cards looked up at him over the rim of her bright red reading glasses.

"May I help you, sir?"

"Uh, yes, I was just," he began before he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Mike?"

He spun around at the sound of the melodic voice and his eyes feasted on the vision of her. "Oh, ah," he stumbled on his words as he drank in her beauty. _Damn, Stoker, get a grip._

"Here to finish your research?" Ryleigh already knew the answer but was trying to make casual conversation. She had noticed how tongue-tied he'd seemed to be this morning and just hoped that perhaps she was the reason for his verbal deficiencies.

Mike cleared his throat stalling for a few more brief moments. He noticed how her pretty chestnut hair was cascading down around her cutely freckled shoulders. Her emerald green sundress brought out her eyes and accented her narrow waist. It fell just below her knees where her tanned shapely legs ended in navy high heels that caused her hips to swing in just the right way as she walked. He looked back into her smiling face and felt a warm blush light up his ears.

"Ahem, yes… I have just a bit more to complete, uh, if that's ok?"

The older lady behind the circulation desk briefly rolled her eyes then looked back down at her stack of library cards as it became obvious that her services were no longer needed.

"Of course, glad you came back. Just follow me." She knew he remembered the way to the room where the tools of his research were located, but she wanted to have just another brief moment or two with the handsome fireman. She heard his steps behind her as she walked back in the direction of the front door, taking a moment to greet an elderly patron as the older man hobbled inside from the rain.

"Hello, Mr. Huggins. May I take your coat and hat?" She held out her arm to the elderly gentleman taking his rain drenched coverings and hanging them on the coat rack for him while he shuffled back toward the periodicals.

Mike watched her demeanor with the older man and was amazed. She seemed so kind and genuinely happy to be helping the gray-haired patron. _Maybe…just maybe…_

"Ok, right over here, Mike." She allowed her neatly French manicured fingernails to lightly scrape the wooden shelves in the back of the narrow unoccupied room; a sound that sent a tickle up his spine. "I think you'll find everything you need right here."

"Thank you," he offered with a shy smile and a dip of his head. "It shouldn't take me much longer," he commented looking at his watch.

"Oh, no rush. Please take your time," she encouraged as she turned to walk a little slower than necessary back towards the doorway.

_Now, Stoker, now! _

"Say, ah Ryleigh?"

"Yes?" She responded quickly to the sound of his voice turning to look over her left shoulder and raising an eyebrow at his inquiry.

"Would, uh, would you happen to be free for lunch? I thought maybe we could grab a quick bite if you have time."

Ryleigh tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her left ear and tilted her head slightly flashing him a bright smile. "Yes, I'd love to."

"Ok, alright…um, how about you pick the place and just let me know when it's time for your lunch break?"

"My lunch is at 12:30 so if it's ok, I'll come back and check on you about that time?" She could almost hear the giddiness in her own voice.

"I better get busy then. Don't want to keep you waiting," he finally felt comfortable enough with her to offer her his pleasing smile.

"I'll be around the circulation desk if you need anything," she said then disappeared.

Mike blew out his breath as he turned around to face the shelf of history behind him. His heart was pounding in his chest but an odd sense of relief covered him. She'd accepted his invitation and now he hoped he could get his pulse rate to slow down for a little while…at least until lunchtime.

He pulled a few items from the shelves and began to browse through the pages. Images of flames, antique rigs and uncomfortable looking uniforms stared back at him from newspaper clippings, magazine articles and photographs. He glanced over the copy beneath the photographs and jotted down a few notes on the ones he needed to spend more time reading in depth. One photograph in particular glared at him hauntingly for reasons he could not explain. Something was drawing him to the scene in the black and white picture and he again set it to the side for further analysis.

He looked in front of him at the two stacks of materials. To his right were the ones he needed to re-shelve and to his left, the ones he wanted to study further for their project. He stood up and began replacing the items on his right. He'd shelved three large binders then reached back for the last item and jumped slightly. What he felt was soft, warm and distinctly feminine.

"Haha, are you done here?" Ryleigh chuckled at the way he'd jerked his hand back as if she'd bitten him. All she'd done was place her hand on the last book and when he reached for it he'd touched her hand instead.

"Oh, hi there…yea, um…"

"Here, let me help. Are you finished with those too?" She asked gesturing at the other group that remained neatly stacked on the table.

"No, ah, there are things in these I need to study further. I was gonna ask if you could copy them for me." He hated how boyish his voice sounded but she had surprised him by her sudden presence.

"Of course, I'd be happy to but can it wait until after lunch? It's 12:30 now." She emphasized her statement by pointing a slender finger at her watch.

Mike couldn't hide the smile that streaked across his face. _She's punctual…I like that. _"Absolutely, did you decide where you want to eat?"

"Well, there's a small café just down the street and the rain has stopped so it'll be a nice walk. Their service is usually quick and the food's not bad either."

Mike abandoned his stack of articles and stepped closer to the pretty librarian. "After you," he waved his hand in the direction of the door, smile still plastered beneath his sparkling eyes.

The walk to the café was much too quick for Mike. He enjoyed strolling alongside Ryleigh and listening to her soft voice. She wasn't the nosy type but did seem genuinely interested in him and his research. The bell on the café door jingled as he opened it holding it for her to enter ahead of him.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," he responded as he followed her inside to a corner booth.

The menus were already positioned on the table but she never looked at hers. She propped her elbows on the red and white checkered tablecloth crossing one hand on top of the other creating a small nest in which to rest her chin. She watched as his blue eyes scanned the menu then looked up at her in a way that melted her heart.

_Damn, Stoker, stop blushing. _He knew she was looking at him and he felt the heat rising up from his chest coloring his neck and face. When the heat reached his eyes he looked up knowing he'd find her staring his way. Sure enough, their eyes met and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat as he returned his gaze to the menu. "Ahem, so…what do you recommend?"

"It's all good. I like the tuna salad with crackers and a cup of mixed fruit but I'm sure you'll need more than that in your line of work."

"Yea, well…I'm not working today so I think I'll try that too." He was lowering the menu just as the waitress came over to take their order. She scribbled something down on her notepad then with a bright smile tucked the pen back behind her ear and turned away swiftly toward the counter.

"So, how long have you been a fireman?"

Mike did the quick math. "A little over a decade. I got promoted to engineer when Station 51 opened and I've been there ever since."

Ryleigh gave a slight grimace unsure of how to ask her next question. "So, is it as dangerous as it sounds?"

"Being an engineer or a firefighter in general?"

"Both," she asked sincerely etching imaginary lines on the tablecloth.

Mike looked up as two glasses of water were delivered to their table. "Thanks," he said to the waitress, silently grateful for the extra time to formulate his response. He knew that while many women were attracted to the heroics of firefighting, it took a special woman to accept the danger involved and pursue a relationship with a member of the department. "Ahem, well, there is a fair amount of danger as you might guess but we are highly trained. We have special protective equipment and we always, always look out for each other. It truly is a tight brotherhood." He looked up somewhat fearful of what he might find.

"Well, that makes a lot of sense," she said looking back up. "I'm glad to know that you guys are really careful. That's important and…good to know," her smile lit up her face.

Feeling relieved by her response, he continued. "As an engineer, I'm responsible for the engine…driving it to and from the scene, working the gauges and making sure the linemen have the right water pressure to fight the fire," he shrugged his shoulders not wanting to get too technical with her, "that sort of thing."

"So then, you don't actually fight the fires…I mean, with a hose and water and stuff like that?"

He couldn't help but grin at her naivety. "Not usually, but I'm always available for that if needed. Cap, uh, our Captain Hank Stanley, was an engineer so if necessary he can handle the engine and I can grab an axe and go," he chuckled softly.

The waitress returned with their plates, "Ok, here ya go. Is there anything else I can get for you two?"

"I'm fine."

"I think we're good. Thank you," Mike said with a slight nod then turned back to Ryleigh as the waitress walked away. "My turn," he began reaching for a packet of crackers from the basket left in the center of the table. "How long have you been a librarian?"

She swallowed her bite of pickle before she began. "I've been here for nearly a year; I'm actually only an assistant. I'm finishing up my degree at USC in history," she said using her fork to pile tuna salad on the end of her cracker. "What I really want to do is be a curator at a museum someday."

"A history buff, huh?"

"Yea…I know," she rolled her eyes, "not exactly feminine right?"

"Oh, no…I think it's great. I love history…so that's why you were quick to point out the area I needed to search in, huh?" He knew he was fishing but he really liked the sound of her voice and he didn't want the conversation to grow stale.

She cocked her head to one side, a habit Mike had already picked up on as something she did when she was feeling flirtatious. "Maybe…or maybe I just liked the company."

Mike lifted his eyebrows quickly, widening his eyes briefly and looking back down at his tuna salad and fruit. He used his fork to pick up a green grape before he continued. "So, why a museum? I mean, if you really love history then why not teach it?"

She thought before answering. "Because the education system is so regimented and I really like all ages not just kids. I can't imagine myself telling the same stories over and over again to the same age group for thirty years, ya know?"

"Ugh, yeah I see what you mean." He sipped his water thinking back over all the station tours he'd given to children's groups…and all the redundant questions he had to answer during each tour. _How much water does the engine hold? How hot does a fire get? How many cats have you gotten down from trees? How fast will the engine go? _ Yes, he definitely understood her reservations with teaching kids.

"Besides, I don't want to just talk about history; I want to see it come alive, to see it with my own eyes, touch it with my own hands." She stared into her glass wistfully, running her finger up and down the cold condensation on the outside of the glass.

Mike watched her, mesmerized by her words. "I think I get it, Ryleigh. I mean, since I've been doing this research, I've wished a few times that I could drive the old engines, pull some of the antique hose to get a feel for it," he smiled thinking about the uniforms Roy and Johnny had worn on their last shift, "maybe even try on an old helmet or slicker."

"Speaking of that…why all the research, Mike?"

He finished his bite of tuna salad, wiping away the stray cracker crumbs before folding his napkin over his cleaned plate. He looked deep into her sparkling eyes and began, "it's complicated but, ah…can you keep a secret; at least for a few more days?"

E!

Thirty minutes later, he pulled out his wallet to leave a tip, took a final sip of his water then stood up. He watched as Ryleigh pulled the long strap of her purse across her body and walked slightly ahead of him towards the cash register. When he saw her unzipping it he assumed she was going to freshen up her lipstick but was surprised when she withdrew a small change purse.

"I had my usual," she said smiling at the gray-haired woman behind the register as she counted out the correct change.

"Ah, Ryleigh I've got this." _Oh no, please don't be one of those women's lib-ers. Please let me be a gentleman here, Ryleigh._

"You sure? I mean, I don't mind…really I don't. I've enjoyed the company and..."

"Honey, let the man pay," the older lady gave Mike a quick wink as she interrupted Ryleigh's rant.

Mike fought to hide his amusement as he saw the pink deepen in Ryleigh's cheeks. _Glad it's not just me blushing, _he mused silently.

They walked slowly back, neither one wanting their impromptu date to end, but eventually they did make their way up the steps to the front door of the library. He opened the door for her and she led him back to his stack of unfinished business.

"Ok, show me what you want copied and I'll take care of it for you," she said reaching for the album on the top of the stack.

Twenty minutes later, Mike accepted the stack of papers from Ryleigh then helped her return the materials back to the front room. As soon as the items were back in place, Ryleigh turned to him and looked deeply into his azure gaze.

"Thank you so much for lunch. I really enjoyed it."

"So did I…maybe we could, ah…do it again sometime?"

Again, tucking a wayward strand behind her ear she replied, "I'd really like that."

Reaching for the cup of pencils in the center of the table, she removed one and wrote her phone number down on the top paper of the stack she'd just handed him. "Call me?"

The corners of his mouth tugged up slightly as he folded the papers protectively and took a step backwards. "Sure, and uh…thanks again," he said lifting up the papers, "for everything."

E!

Mike strummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he hummed along with the Starland Vocal Band's "Afternoon Delight" playing on the radio. He turned into his apartment complex and took the stairs two at a time. Tossing the papers down on his kitchen table, he headed for his refrigerator; the tuna and crackers really hadn't been very filling for him so he decided to make himself a sandwich before he dove once more into his research.

He stared at Ryleigh's phone number as he ate a ham and cheese sandwich and drank his orange juice. _Yes, Miss Abrams…I will definitely give you a call. _He turned to the first page and began reading. Several moments later, he turned over the first page and finished the last bite of his sandwich. "Uh-shit-huhu!" He coughed out the word as a bit of bread tumbled down his throat startling him and causing him to jump up knocking over what was left of his orange juice. He stumbled into the kitchen for a paper towel to clean up the mess, hacking and pounding his chest with his closed fist. His head hurt as he thought back over the incident with the coffee at the station. _ Oh, not again!_ Tearing off a couple of the white paper towels, he returned to the table and began to blot them on the dampened paper so as not to damage the copy Ryleigh had made for him. _Damn it, Stoker you're a klutz! _His aggravation with himself deepened when he realized he'd actually spilled the orange juice on the phone number she'd written down for him. He lightly patted it, drying up what he could while leaving as much of the writing as possible. _Whew, ok it's still there, smudged a little but still there. _

Mike inhaled deeply, tossing the wet paper towels into the trash canfrom across his kitchen table. _Banked it, two points! Take that, Chet! _He pumped his fist in a downward snap mimicking a basketball referee then sat back down at the table to begin reading the article that had so intrigued him earlier.There on the third page was the picture that had haunted him since he'd first seen it. He read the caption beneath it and froze. Closing his eyes, he slowly lowered his aching head down on the heel of his propped hand, his own words he'd shared with Ryleigh during lunch wrapping themselves around his throat and squeezing tightly.

"Ooophffff," the air blew out of his lungs in an audible rush. Looking back down at the paper in his hands, he felt his thighs ache and his gut begin to churn. He stared at the pictures - at one in particular - and read over the account again, heart pounding and blood rushing through his ears. He'd thought about the possibility when he first accepted the position at 51's but only occasionally since that first year. Now, with the reality staring him in the face, he rethought his earlier conversation with Ryleigh and began to question his own dedication to the department and to the 'A' shift at Station 51. He wondered if he had what it took to adequately do the job. He questioned his skills and felt the bile rising in the back of his throat as he saw the faces of Chet, Marco, Roy, Johnny and Hank flashing across the screen of his closed eyelids. He thought back over the many fires they'd all fought together, of the many injuries the other five men had incurred since they'd been brought together and not once did he remember an injury to himself. What did that say about him? Was he carrying his own weight around the station? Did the other men resent him for it? He thought back to their captain getting electrocuted at the scene of an automobile accident and burning his leg in a fire. He relived the time when Roy's lifeless body fell from the second story of a burning house while assisting Johnny in the rescue of a bedfast patient and the elation when the female trainee resuscitated him. He also thought about the various cuts and bruises he'd received when the ambulance he was riding in was involved in a crash. He recalled Marco being thrown backwards off his feet at a gas station when an over eager owner restarted the power too soon resulting in electrical burns to his hands as well as injuring his shoulder during a dust explosion. Chet had been injured by a blast from the attic of a house fire and rode the ladder to the ground not to mention a broken shoulder during a rescue attempt. And, of course, there was Johnny. John Gage had sustained more injuries than all the others combined, from a snake bite to being run over by a hit and run driver. Then there was Mike Stoker. Engineer Mike Stoker. Always safe and sound beside the engine, never injured, never singed, rarely ever inhaling much smoke, Mike Stoker. Now, it wasn't just the image and the story on the pages before him that haunted Mike. Now Mike's own self-doubts and insecurities were beginning to creep inside his mind, crowding out his stellar record with the department and leaving behind gaping holes in his heart that were rapidly being filled by the deep dark pain of a tortured soul.


	7. Chapter 7

Warning: strong language

All medical and technical errors are mine.

Chapter 7

_Beeeep…..Beeeep…..Beeeep_

Mike slammed the receiver back down in the cradle of his bedside phone. "Damn," he mumbled into the open palm he ran down his face. Cupping a hand behind his head, he leaned back onto the pillows with a frustrated sigh, turning slightly to look at his alarm clock again. _Two o'clock and her line's been busy since before noon. _He thought back over their conversation during lunch the previous day. He knew that she had a morning class from 8:00am until 9:50am and that she would be back at her apartment before lunch to begin typing a mid-term paper. She only had classes on Tuesday's and Thursday's and he was certain that today was Thursday; he'd already double checked the calendar on his refrigerator. His insecurities began to shout at him from deep within his soul. Did she take her phone off the hook to avoid his calls? But then why did she give him her number in the first place unless she wanted him to call? He thought back over the time they'd spent together in the little café. He'd never felt so comfortable with a member of the opposite sex in his entire life; especially on a first date. He had debated with himself whether or not to call her back so soon but his memory of her writing down her phone number on the top of the paper then returning it to him with a warm and inviting smile had convinced him to make the call – or to at least make multiple attempts.

With a grunt he leaned over reaching for the phone and dialing the digits one more time, no longer needing to look at the paper since the sequence was seared into his memory with all his failed attempts over the previous two hours….555-2647.

_Beeep…..Beeep…..Beeep_

"Ugh, Ryleigh…was it something I said?"

E!

She pulled the lever back on the manual typewriter releasing the paper enough for her to reach her error with the eraser, scrubbing the typo until the pale green instrument removed the errant ink mark. Remnants stuck to the white sheet like dust particles so she flipped the pencil-like eraser over, using the fanned brush end to remove the erasure pieces then blew on the page for good measure. She snapped the black bar back in place to secure the paper to the roller then returned her fingers to the home keys. She sat staring at the machine for a few moments then dared a glancing glare at the olive green phone on the wall of her kitchen, as if willing it to ring would somehow make the handsome fireman dial her number. When it didn't ring she tucked a foot beneath her in the kitchen chair and blew on the section of hair that had become loosened from her ponytail and was now dangling annoyingly between her irritated hazel eyes.

"He thinks I should be a teacher; he's disappointed," she surmised aloud. Embarrassment colored her neck when she realized that he had not asked for her phone number, she'd simply offered it to him and he'd accepted it. "Of course," she said exasperatedly although she was alone in the apartment, "he's a fireman and such a gentleman that…he didn't want to hurt my feelings so he took my number….and he'll probably burn it at his next fire." She forcefully slammed the carriage back to the left margin and began typing again. _Ryleigh, you are such an idiot to think he'd be attracted to you, _she thought struggling to see the handwritten paper beside the typewriter as it grew more and more blurry from her tears.

E!

Later that evening, Mike picked at the peas and carrots of his now cold TV dinner. The meatloaf reminded him of road kill and the dollop of mashed potatoes made him think of a dirty snowball, not appealing to the eyes or the stomach. He huffed one more time then reached for his water. He allowed the cooling liquid to run down his throat while he stepped over to the trash can and tossed away his inedible meal. Standing beside the refrigerator, he thought about the four remaining cans of beer he'd had in there for a few weeks. Mike Stoker wasn't a heavy drinker like some firemen seemed to be but on occasion he'd down a can just to help him relax and sleep. This was going to be one of those nights.

Standing with the door open, he grabbed a can and popped the pull tab off. He tossed metal fragment into the trash can and began to drink, belching slightly on his way to his recliner. Beside him, the phone sat staring at him. Somewhere inside his frustrated brain he could almost hear it snickering and giggling.

"Alright, one more try," he mumbled to himself as he reached for the receiver and dialed the number.

_Ring…._

_oh YES, _he thought sitting up in anticipation of her voice.

_...ring….ring…_

"WHAT? Who the hell is this?"

The voice on the other end was certainly not Ryleigh's; in fact, it was distinctly male…and very angry.

Mike stammered something into the phone as shock and realization dawned on him. "Uh, ah…sorry, wrong number," he said slamming down the phone.

_Shit, she's gotta boyfriend…or a husband. Oh no…..Mike Stoker does NOT play THAT game. Nuh-uh…no way. _His musings continued - each thought worse than the one before - until he'd finished his beer. Then, in an almost unheard of move, Mike retrieved a second beer from the refrigerator and continued sipping and swearing his way to the bottom of it as well; he had never been lied to in such a way before. "Damn it!" Now he thought he understood why she'd tried to pay for her own meal; she hadn't considered it a date. _But why the hell did she insist on giving me her number?_

E!

"What'd 'C' get called out on this morning?"

Hank looked up at his second in command standing in the doorway of his office, not quite looking like his usual self. "They're part of a second alarm assignment in a neighborhood off Sepulveda Blvd….got called out right after I got here."

"Shit…figures," Mike mumbled turning around, obviously stifling a yawn as he lumbered back toward the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

Hank watched him leave, feelings of both curiosity and dread beginning to rumble deep within his gut. _Looks like this is gonna be a very long shift._

E!

Just as Hank had feared, Mike's uncharacteristic foul mood seemed to have set the tone around the station. Roy had come in grumbling after his neighbor's dog had knocked over the DeSoto's trash cans tearing into the plastic bags and leaving a trail of loose garbage across his lawn. Then Marco stormed in with a very sour face complaining about his water heater going out before he could complete his morning routine leaving him hot but not in the way he preferred. The sound of a van door repeatedly slamming in the back parking lot announced the arrival of the younger lineman; a furious Chet Kelly soon shoved his way into the locker room slinging his duffle bag off his shoulder and onto the wooden bench amid the stares of his earlier arriving crew mates.

"Stupid rusty piece of shit! Damn door won't stay shut." He emphasized his words with a swift kick to the bench. "Owee, damn it!"

"Got something against that bench there, Chet?"

"Oh you're a regular riot, Gage." Chet opened his locker and began the task of changing from his street clothes into the blues of the Los Angeles County Fire Department.

Johnny looked around the locker room at the grim faces, arching an eyebrow in obvious question. "Hey, come on…who pissed in you guy's corn flakes this mornin', huh?" He smirked slightly, pulling his light blue uniform shirt onto his shoulders and straightening the collar.

"Stow it, Johnny." Ebony eyes glared at the younger man while Marco tied his shoe laces then straightened up pushing open the locker room door seeking the solace of a hot cup of java.

Johnny looked down ensuring his nimble fingers were lining up his buttons correctly, "geez…sorry."

"It isn't you, Junior…seems it's just a bad day."

Johnny looked at his partner, disbelief written on his expressive face. "Yea, well I didn't do anything so they need to leave me out of it." He slammed his locker door shut leaving Roy in the locker room alone with a smirk on his face; he was the only one who realized the irony of the situation – bad days were indeed contagious because now even happy-go-lucky Johnny Gage seemed to be having one.

E!

Hank looked at his crew noting their lack of energy and general foul moods. "Well gentlemen, we've got a lot to do today so let's start chores. As soon as 'C' shift gets in we'll need to clean up the rigs and hang hoses for them. He caught Mike's eye roll but decided not to ask the burning question on his mind.

"Ok," he began looking down at his clipboard. "Mike kitchen, Marco dayroom, Chet dorms, Roy bay and Johnny latrine."

He watched as the five men who made up his crew silently stormed off to their respective assignments. _Oh, boy. _He blew out his breath combing his hand through his hair as he turned to go back to the respite of his office.

E!

Johnny shimmied up the hose tower, still in a very hostile mood from his earlier encounter with his crew mates in the locker room. Suddenly, he slipped on the fifth rung causing him to fall back down landing on top Chet.

"Shit, Gage!" The lineman rolled and pushed until both men were on all fours in the back lot, struggling to regain their footing.

Johnny looked around sheepishly, anxious to ensure that their Captain hadn't seen his debacle. "Sorry, man."

Chet opened his mouth to release a snappy comeback when the tones interrupted him.

_Station 51 – brush fire near…._

Chet and Johnny both scrambled towards their respective rigs as the disembodied voice of the dispatcher relayed the information for the call.

"Station 51, KMG-365." Hank hung up the microphone and made his way to his place on the engine.

Johnny accepted the slip of paper passed to him by his partner as he watched the bay door rising reflected off the shiny red hood of the squad. He reached down flipping on the lights and sirens, as Mike engaged the engine and together the two emergency vehicles pulled out of the station.

Roy maneuvered the squad around the tight curves of the dirt road leaving a trail of dust behind for Mike to navigate through. Johnny tightened his chin strap when he began to see the smoke on the horizon.

"At least the wind's calmed down a little," he muttered, his eyes never leaving the rising plume of smoke ahead.

Roy pursed his lips into a thin line of exasperation, fighting back the urge to yell at his partner. Johnny seemed to have a way of jinxing their runs by making comments like the one he'd just uttered. He pulled to a stop shifting into park and opening his door at the same time. Johnny followed quickly and both men began pulling on their turnouts and gloves preparing to pull a hose; paramedic skills were rarely needed on brush fire runs unless it was for one of their own.

"L.A. Station 51 on scene," Hank said then replaced the microphone preparing to issue directives.

"Chet, Marco grab an inch and a half and head down that ridge…Gage, DeSoto cover the north side and let's see if we can't knock this thing down."

The four men rushed into action grateful for the sparse amount of underbrush and the relative lack of wind. Mike stood sentinel beside the engine ensuring that his crew had the water pressure necessary to drown the slow moving fire.

Chet took the lead with Marco at his back and began spraying the slow creeping flames. "Looks like there are more rocks than brush," he yelled over his shoulder.

"Don't complain," Lopez shouted back.

Hank stepped up on the engine to survey the slope beneath them making sure they weren't missing any hot spots when he saw something metallic lying north of his paramedics current position and slightly beyond their line of sight. He stepped down scurrying over to his engineer. "Hey, keep an eye out up here for a minute will ya, Mike?"

"Sure, Cap."

Hank loped past the front of the squad gripping his long fingers around his handy-talkie. The wind picked up blowing sand into his face and sending a chill down his sweat soaked back. Protectively, he used his free hand to shield the annoying particles from his face until he reached the summit. He turned to his left leaning over the edge slightly, gasping at what he saw. There below him was a tangled mass of metal and wheels; two boy's bicycles, one black and the other gold, appeared to be meshed together in a mangled mess. His breath hitched in his throat with the realization that there might be two kids somewhere in the ravine beneath them. He keyed up the mic on the HT just as another gust of wind blew sand and smoke into his face sending him into a coughing spasm.

Johnny looked around at their surroundings as the wind sent smoke barreling in their direction. His instincts shifted into a higher gear as he tapped his partner on the shoulder. "Hey Roy…gotta get outta here."

The two medics scrambled back up the slight incline just as Hank keyed his handy-talkie. "HT 51 to Engine 51."

"Go ahead, Cap."

"Mike, get us some back up coming. The winds have shifted and we may have a couple of victims up here. Pull Lopez and Kelly and get the engine and squad up here fast," he released the button waving frantically at his two medics who were already hauling their hose back up to the road where they dropped it.

Roy jogged alongside his partner, both breathless as they met their Captain. "Whatcha got, Cap?"

"Look," he said pointing his gloved hand down the edge of the ravine.

"Aw, shit!"

Under other circumstances, Hank would've voiced his displeasure with his younger medic but he had to admit that his own mind had been screaming the same phrase since he'd first noticed the bikes and the shifting winds. "Stoker and Lopez are bringing up the rigs. Those flames are heading in that direction and if there're two kids down there injured…"

"We don't have much time," Roy interjected as he and Johnny both made a run for the squad just as Marco stopped it in front of them.

"Alright guys, see what you can do with the asbestos blankets and we'll do what we can to keep those flames back for long as possible. Help's on the way but," he gulped not wanting to finish his sentence.

"We know, Cap," Johnny said securing his SCBA on and adjusting the face mask.

"Hope you don't have to make that call," Roy offered looking at his superior with compassion as his own SCBA mask dangled beneath his chin while he secured his belt and line for the fast descent. "Get the stokes and backboards ready. We might find'em fast and be able to get back out before the fire gets here."

Hank looked over the man's shoulder to the place where Chet was already spraying down the dry vegetation. The flames were advancing faster than he'd hoped; the beast was growing and setting its sights on the humans who now stood in its way.

All six men knew that Hank wouldn't knowingly allow them to stay in an unsafe situation, even when two young lives might be at stake. They just all hoped and prayed that he wouldn't have to make the call for them to come back up before they could get the kids out…or at least confirm they weren't there.

Roy felt the dirt beneath his feet shift when the full force of his weight pressed into it as he made his controlled descent. He held the blanket securely while his hands busied themselves in lowering him closer to the twisted bikes, his brain all too aware of the dangers lurking close by.

Hank watched above them as his two medics made their way down, black helmets shining in the sun. His heart beat much too quickly inside his chest each time a small gust of wind carried wispy smoke between his vantage point and their constantly lowering positions. He looked up briefly when the distant wail of sirens drifted into his hearing and he silently whispered a prayer of thanks for the precious sound.

Johnny continued lowering himself down scouring the terrain on his left then doing another visual sweep on his right, the section between himself and Roy. Sweat dribbled down around his ears and the seal of his mask as he looked down in search of solid footing. A muffled shout and movement caught his attention on his right and he looked up to see Roy dropping to a knee behind a protruding boulder.

Roy looked around the mangled bicycles in search of any sign of their owners. A sneaker, loose lace trapped in the bicycle chain, hung suspended and blowing in the wind. Roy winced noting the small size of the shoe knowing the child who wore it wasn't very old. His keen eyes noted what looked like scratching marks in the soil and his heart broke imagining a young boy struggling to climb out of the mess he was now surrounded in. As always, his mind briefly thought about his own young son but his heart refused to allow his thoughts to linger there. He had a child to find and right now time and the elements were against him. He lowered himself again positioning his feet below the wreckage but at the same level with the protruding boulder where he heard coughing and saw the mate to the trapped shoe.

"Hey…are you ok?" He watched as the shoe moved sending a few small rocks tumbling downward. He leaned around gaining a better view of the child and his heart leaped into his throat.

In the shade of the boulder, a small child lay curled on his side facing the large stone. His body heaved as he retched whether from fear, dust and smoke or perhaps serious injury, Roy couldn't tell. The experienced paramedic looked up, gaining his partner's attention and signaling that he'd found one victim. He waited for John's signal that he understood and was continuing his search then returned his attention to the child.

"Son, can you hear me?" Roy pulled his mask off long enough to listen for a response.

"Ah…hurts…aruu," the child began to retch again.

"Easy now, you're gonna be ok. Can you tell me where you hurt?" Roy's eyes scanned the small body noting the torn clothing and various bruises and scrapes along his arms, hands and face. He quickly ran his hands along the child's body glad to find no obvious fractures but his concern grew as the child clutched his abdomen and began dry heaving again. He removed his mask offering the child some clean air for a few breaths while he pulled out his HT to let the rest of the crew know what he'd found.

"HT 51 to engine 51."

Hank was anticipating the call as he'd seen Roy signal his find moments earlier. "Whatcha got, Roy?"

"One victim, male about eight years old. No obvious fractures but possible internal injuries and concussion. I can't do much for him here. Gotta get him top side quick, Cap."

"Tell me what you need and I'll send Kelly down with it."

Roy looked back down at the child whose condition seemed to be improving slightly with the oxygen. He was no longer moaning and retching and had relaxed his arms from around his abdomen. Roy keyed up the mic again. "Stokes only."

While Chet prepared the stokes, Marco continued spraying down the area as much as he could but became frustrated when the stream of water seemed to waiver. Mike's ears perked up at the sound of the change in water pressure.

"Sonofabitch!" He groaned making the adjustments he instinctively knew wouldn't be enough.

Hank watched his young lineman make his way down the embankment with the stokes in tow then looked up as the wailing sound grew louder. Dust flying in the distance gave him the information needed to do a quick mental calculation of the ETA of the station called out to assist them. _Come on fellas…we need ya here quick. _

"CAP!"

Hank turned around at the panicked sound of Mike's voice and saw a look he rarely saw in the engineer's blue eyes.

"She's going dry….pressure's too low to reach them."

Hank's gut churned and his head throbbed. This was exactly what he had been afraid he'd have to do. He looked to his left and noted the distance of the flames from his men and the wind speed. He already knew the approaching engine would not make it to their location before the advancing fire reached them. He was fairly certain Roy and Chet could get their victim up the side of the ravine with a little time to spare but he could no longer see Johnny. His mouth went completely dry as he sucked in his breath keying his HT.

Johnny looked up the ravine realizing that he had descended twice as far as Roy. He continued his visual sweep, HT bumping into his left hip. Then he saw the sight he'd been searching for, a red and white striped shirt and he quickly made his way over the few steps to his right. His heart pounded out a new rhythm as he pulled off his mask and used his teeth to pull off his right glove. He tasted the dirt from his glove and felt the grit running along his lips as he reached his long cramping fingers out hoping to feel a pulse when Hank's voice boomed from his left pocket.

"Engine 51 to HT 51…time's up…get outta there! Water pressure too low to continue and the ETA on back-up is three minutes. "

He dug into his pocket, removing the HT and pulling up the antennae. "Cap…I found another victim," he called out breathlessly.

Hank felt an unseen hand wrapping cold fingers around his heart and lungs and squeezing the breath out of him. What choice did he have? Before he could answer the question Johnny hadn't yet asked, he heard the young man's voice crackling across the radio.

"Cap, he's alive!" Johnny knew full well the consequences of disobeying an order but his Captain wasn't holding a young boy in his arms. "I'm gonna cover us up… with the blanket 'til… we can get out," he continued in a voice raspy for air having placed his own mask over the face of his young unconscious victim.

Hank toed the ground, shifting his weight in frustration. Inhaling a deep shaky breath, he grimaced with his next comment, "Alright, take cover, John."

Behind him, Mike continued pushing the engine trying to increase the pressure on Marco's line by sheer will power alone. "No…not this, please?" He stood leaning into the engine, his chin beginning to sag as the fire continued to encroach on his crew mate down below.

Marco shut off the nozzle realizing that the minor stream of water he was getting was no longer reaching its target. He returned to the engine dropping his impotent line and saw Chet and Roy struggling to pull the stokes up the hillside. "Here," he reached out for the end of the stokes rushing past Mike, never noticing the slight droop in his broad shoulders.

"Other side of the squad," Roy huffed out passing Hank who was standing in place watching for some sign from Johnny. The three men lowered the stokes and Roy began calling out the equipment he needed while he wiggled out of his SCBA tank. He couldn't allow his mind to drift back to his stranded partner when the boy in front of him needed his complete attention.

Johnny did a quick assessment of his young victim and realized he was in no condition to be moved without spinal precautions. His pupils were reactive but the left one was sluggish. "Damn kid, ya really did a number on yourself didn'tcha." He palpated the small abdomen, relieved to find it soft. The boy's left leg was twisted awkwardly and his forehead sported a large swelling bruise. Johnny looked up when he noticed the smoke around them thickening. Time was running out much too quickly. He spread out the protective blanket making sure that when he laid down on top of his victim that they would both be completely covered, the child being doubly protected by both the blanket and John's turnout covered body. He pulled his mask up arranging his position on the child so as not to put any unnecessary pressure on him while using the mask to provide them both with air. He held himself up off the child with his knees and elbows then pulled the blanket over their heads. "A'right, kid…'s just you and me."

E!

"LA engine 51, respond two ambulances to our location," Hank croaked out slamming the microphone back into its bracket just as an LA County Sheriff's patrol car pulled to a stop ahead of the second alarm assignments.

Vince Howard jumped from his car jogging up to the obviously nervous Hank Stanley. "Watcha got, Hank?"

"Don't know if they're related or not but we gotta call for a brush fire and then saw two boy's bicycles mangled together just below this ridge. Roy's got one of the kids over there treating him and," Captain Stanley hesitated as a gust of wind blew smoke into his face. "U-hu, Johnny's got another one down there."

Vince followed Hank's gaze. "Hank, uh…"

"He's taking cover until we can get them back up," Hank answered the officer's impending question as he looked around the officer's helmet. "Good job, Mike," he mumbled knowing his engineer had been in contact with Captain Collier at 8's to apprise him of their situation so he would know what was needed.

In the distance, Hank saw the engineer from 8's dropping a line from the hydrant. Relief washed over him as he realized that the distance could easily be covered by the supply lines from the two engines working in tandum to pull the dragon killing fluid from the old dust covered red hydrant to his hunkered down asbestos blanket covered victim and paramedic below.

Moments later, Captain Collier rushed to Hank's side. "Whatcha need, Hank?"

"I've gotta man down there taking cover with an injured kid. Let's get these flames pushed back to the south so we can get 'em out."

Captain Collier began shouting orders to the waiting men. Two engineers readied the rigs to charge the lines as their collective crews positioned themselves for the most strategic attack. They all knew they had a brother trapped with a victim and they all wanted to get them out as soon as possible.

"Hey Vince?"

Vince turned at the sound of Roy's voice calling his name. "Yea?"

"Gotta kid here with no parents around to give permission to treat. Can you assume custody?"

"You got it, Roy," Vince answered returning to his patrol car to contact his shift supervisor. "Do whatever you deem necessary and I'll take responsibility for it."

Roy's blue eyes met the ebony eyes of the officer giving him a nod of appreciation. He briefly allowed himself a glimpse of the activities underway to rescue his partner and the remaining child then returned his attention to the crying little boy lying on the blankets near the hood of the squad. "Hey, it's ok, buddy. I know it stings but it's gonna be alright. You're gonna get to ride to the hospital in an ambulance, ok?"

Young green eyes continued to melt as Roy continued his ministrations of bandaging the child's wounds. He was grateful his patient had only suffered scrapes and bruises…and hoped that perhaps his partner and the second victim would fair just as well.

Johnny lay in the sweltering heat beneath the blanket. His turnouts added another layer of protection from the heat and flames but offering no other comfort. He couldn't make out the features of his patient in the darkness of the covering but he could feel the small ribcage beneath him continuing to move rhythmically as the child inhaled the fresh air flowing from the mask he'd positioned between them. Sweat continued to pour into his eyes burning and stinging. Additional rivulets dripped down his face, ending in a pool along the child's bruised cheek bone. "Hang on….just a little longer, kiddo."

"Uh… hmm," the child groaned then coughed. "cuu, ahuu."

"Easy there….you're safe, buddy. Just take it easy, 'k?" Johnny could feel the child beginning to stir and released a breath of relief as he felt all four limbs moving slightly. "Atta boy," he whispered turning his head sideways to cough just as his HT crackled.

"Engine 51 to HT 51. You ok, John?"

Johnny squirmed reaching around for his HT, struggling to pull it up close enough to his mouth to be heard by his captain. "Yea, Cap. We're ok."

Hank felt his knees weaken with relief at the sound of his medic's voice. "Whatcha need down there? I got help up top here to bring it down."

Johnny pulled himself up removing the blanket in the process. The area around him was charred and dusty but he and his young patient had escaped the blaze. Johnny sat back on his haunches straddling his patient and coughing to clear his throat. He wiped the sweat from his brow with one arm as he keyed up his HT with the other hand. "Backboard…C-collar…stokes." His reply was breathless but he managed to get the words out. "Ah, add a splint too," he mentioned looking back down at his semi-conscious victim still lying in the same position Johnny had found him in. "Told ya, kid...plenty o' help to get us outta here."

E!

Thirty minutes later, Hank gave the usual two slaps to the back door of each ambulance watching with relief as the white Mayfair vehicles pulled away towards their destination of Rampart, each one carrying a young boy and a paramedic from 51's. He ran his fingers across his forehead turning around to assess the clean up when he noticed his engineer sitting on the tailboard of their engine, head hanging low.

"Mike?"

Mike heard his name and looked up as he stood, embarrassed to have been caught sitting down on the job. "Sorry, Cap."

"You ok, Pal?" Hank once again felt those same icy fingers walking up his spine and gripping his chest.

Mike exhaled hard shifting his gaze from his Captain to the last rays of the sun setting behind the older man. "Yea…just…uh, nothing, Cap…it's nothing."

Hank slapped his engineer on the shoulder, guiding him towards the driver's seat. "Let's head back to the barn then…we're gonna need showers and food before the next call comes in," he said using his best encouraging voice.

Mike didn't respond audibly. Instead, he followed his Captain's lead and soon began the long drive back home. This particular call had been much too similar to the story he'd read at the library; a story that had been haunting him for a couple of days now. And he knew that after this run, it would haunt his sleeping hours as well.

E!

A/N: Thank you all so much for your comments, especially to those who have encouraged me and helped me by serving as a beta!


	8. Chapter 8

Yesterday's Embers-8

Mike slowly stripped out of his dusty smelly uniform allowing it to puddle around his feet. He had deliberately waited to be the last man to shower, finding some mundane task to keep him busy long enough for the others to finish and the water to heat back up. Only half the men had showered by the time Chet had served dinner so at least he wasn't the only one sitting at the table dirty. Chet had been first since he had to cook and Hank had showered next followed by Johnny. Roy and Marco showered after dinner – the need for food taking priority over cleanliness - while Mike had loitered around in the locker room trying to look busy until he knew he'd have plenty of hot water. He stepped inside the stall, feeling the cold dampness of the wet tile against his bare feet then twisted the knobs until the water was the right temperature. He squeezed his eyes closed and allowed the soothing hot water to rinse away the top layer of grime. If only his stress and insecurities could be so easily vanquished. Slowly, he turned his back to the spray and scrubbed his face with his hands. As the shower stall steamed up, unbidden images of a man down beside the rig played on the back of his closed eyelids. Coughing, he quickly opened his eyes, momentarily mesmerized until he realized that the mist he was seeing was steam and not smoke.

"Damn it," he mumbled to himself, frustrated that his personal torment refused to even let him shower in peace.

He grabbed the bar of soap and lathered up his body, fear causing him to scrub harder than was actually necessary. He rinsed off the suds then shampooed his sandy colored hair, rinsing quickly so as not to tempt his demons to reappear when he closed his eyes.

By the time he'd dried himself off and glanced at his watch, he realized that it was almost time for lights out. Pulling on his t-shirt and boxers, he set about preparing his bunkers for the usual middle of the night run then slipped between the cool sheets of his bed while the rest of the crew began their own preparations.

Long after his captain had extinguished the lights and the room had begun to fill with the soft gentle snores of tired sleeping men, Mike lay fully awake staring at the ceiling listening to the annoying ticking sound of the clock. Someone turned slightly in his bunk causing a light squeaking sound as the man shifted into a more comfortable position never waking up. Mike mused at how loud even the most common sounds were during the night when he never remembered hearing them during the day. Had that wall clock always made that insufferably loud ticking sound? He couldn't remember.

He leaned up on one elbow, fluffed up his pillow, then lay back down staring at the ceiling. He'd already counted the ceiling tiles and the bricks in the half wall that separated his bunk from those of the linemen. He began to mindlessly strum his fingers along his abdomen to the rhythm of "Rock Around The Clock"; the tune was stuck in his brain as the guys had been watching the television situation comedy "Happy Days" earlier in the evening. He soon grew tired of this never ending exercise in futility and once again exhaled a deep cleansing breath before beginning again to count the pale ceiling tiles to the beat of the ticking clock. The longer he stared, the darker the white tiles seemed to become, first turning smoky gray and then fading completely away into the blackness….his nightmare grinning maniacally, waiting in the wings for the perfect time to invade the subconscious of the unsuspecting sleeping engineer.

E!

Mike awoke, book lying on his chest, to the sounds of a heated exchange in the locker room. He jumped up, realizing he was already fully dressed as he'd only been napping, and made his way into the locker room.

"I'm hip," Roy said with a splayed hand across his chest. "Just because I'm circled doesn't mean I'm not cool."

Johnny looked up from where he stood rubbing a towel over his wet hair, having obviously just showered. "Yea, Chet. He's got a wife, a couple o' ankle-biters AND a rag-top," Johnny stood beside his partner, broad smile spreading across his boyish face.

"And skinny," Roy snickered patting his back pocket where his nearly empty wallet lay.

Chet couldn't handle the feeling of the two rescue men ganging up on him. He looked over at Johnny and began, "well that don't exactly razz my berries so why don't you cop a breeze, bundie?"

The lineman's remark about his hair made Johnny self-conscious of its length knowing he was pushing it with Hank by allowing it to get longer but he really hated how he looked with a buzz cut. He looked sheepishly around the room noticing the flat-tops on Roy, Chet and now Mike who had just joined them. Happy for the diversion Mike's entrance allowed, he piped up. "Hey, Mike…pile some Z's?"

Mike yawned briefly as if in response to Johnny's comment. "Yea…'til I heard Kelly going ape in here."

"Think fast," Johnny laughed tossing his wet towel at the still smoldering Chester.

"Aww, you're a panic and a half." Chet balled up the damp towel and threw it back at Johnny with a scowl. "I'm gonna go refuel."

Mike watched the shorter Irishman head out the door before he jumped into the conversation. "So, what's got him frosted?"

"Well, he took a phone call from his Sophie after we got back from that last run…not long after you lay down," Roy began.

"Ahhh, got clutched didn't he?" Mike and the rest of the men had become experts at interpreting Chester B. Kelly's behavior.

"That'd be my guess, Stoker. And I think he really was snowed by her too." Roy looked back and forth between the two other men in the room.

"Well, I'm not gonna let 'im rattle my cage," Johnny grinned as he finished getting dressed. "Uh, 'sides…I kinda know how he feels. Happens to me all the time…he'll get over it." He felt Roy's hand patting him on his shoulder as the three men made their way into the bay headed for the kitchen.

"Whose turn is it to cook?" Chet asked with his head stuck in the refrigerator looking for something to snack on.

"Mine," Johnny answered, being the first of the trio to enter the kitchen.

Chet rolled his eyes reaching for an apple. "Great…more tube steak!"

"Hey…nothin' wrong with hotdogs, man. They're fillin'." He slipped up beside the shorter man, a slim hand squeezed Chet's shoulder while the Irishman looked directly into Johnny's closed fist. "Unless you'd rather have a knuckle sandwich," he said through his playful grin.

"Meanwhile back at the ranch," Hank began effectively cutting off the verbal sparring between his men.

Marco snickered at their captain's way of silencing them. "Haha, oh man, that was boss, Cap."

"Thank you, Lopez." Hank moved closer to the men in the kitchen. Now that I have your attention, I got a call a few minutes ago saying that we'll likely get deployed over to a brush fire at La Tuna Canyon so Gage, I suggest you get those tube steaks cooking fast so we can at least have one hot meal today."

"Yessir, I'm gettin' with it." Johnny quickly pulled out the packages of hotdogs from the refrigerator and began boiling water.

"And, ah Gage?"

Johnny turned around and his stomach knotted. Hank was standing directly behind him staring just above his hair line to his still damp dark hair and Johnny knew what he was about to be chastised for.

"By next shift, I expect you to get your ears lowered. This is 1955…not the middle ages."

Johnny dropped his gaze, a pink tint rapidly ascending his long neck on its way up his face. "Yessir, um, just please don't make me get a lighter."

"Alright, no flat-top but at least get back to regulation length, huh Pal?" He turned to leave then quickly spun back around raising an index finger. "And, I hate duck butts too."

"Got it, Big Daddy," he said returning back to the stove then quickly brought his shoulders up beside his ears and screwed his face into a cringe beneath knitted eyebrows, realizing his unprofessional reference to his superior.

"Big Daddy?" Hank's booming voice echoed in the now silent kitchen. He arched an eyebrow upwards before he continued. "I can still take you on, greaser," Hank snickered throwing the younger man's own lingo back at him knowing just how uncomfortable Johnny was at the moment. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and stepped outside the back door to enjoy a little peace and quiet away from his crew. Somehow, his instincts always knew when a run was going to be a bad one and nicotine seemed to calm him down. He swiped the match across the plate on the matchbox cupping his hands against the wind and pulling a drag to light the end of the white paper cylinder. He inhaled deeply, retaining his breath momentarily then exhaling hard trying to rid himself of the feelings of dread that were slithering around his ankles and coldly crawling up his long legs coiling tightly in his gut stealthily preparing a venom filled strike on his much-too-rapidly beating heart.

E!

Mike and Johnny together got the kitchen cleaned up just in time for the call out.

"Let's roll!"

At the sound of Hank's voice, Johnny threw the dish towel on the counter as he hurriedly backed his way out of the kitchen. In no time, the A shift of Station 51 were in their rigs ready to join the attack.

Johnny tugged on the strap of his helmet. "Let's haul ass, Pally," he stated matter-of-factly, accelerating the rescue wagon ahead of Mike in the engine making their way to the staging area at La Tuna Canyon.

As they neared they're destination, Roy and Johnny saw a multitude of emergency response vehicles in service. There were hose wagons, pumpers, tankers, engines, and several other rescue wagons besides the one they were in. They noticed that another couple of rescue men were parking their wagon and heading for the back of their hose truck.

"Guess this old girl is gonna get a rest, huh?"

"Looks like," Roy said exiting the wagon as Mike slowed down the engine long enough for the two young men to step on the tailboard.

Mike pulled in line just behind the hose wagon from 39's and ahead of a brush truck, having already been alerted to the location where they would begin their battle. They were headed to the Green Verdugo fire road, a place where the fire was expected to move soon and the city and county fire departments were going to fight with every weapon they had to drive the beast back down and away from the homes in the area.

The terrain was rocky, hilly and covered with dry vegetation on this fateful November day. Hank could feel it in the air; something nameless that conversed with his experience and training and determined that this would be a blaze with a mind of its own – a mind hell bent on ravaging more than just the canyon. He ran a nervous hand over his mouth wishing for another cigarette to calm his raging nerves but also realizing that smoking in such a location was ludicrous.

Mike noticed his captain's nervousness and felt his own battle gearing up with the bitter bile he was beginning to taste in the back of his throat. He watched the hose wagon ahead of him slow down as the road became narrower and he geared down the engine so as to slow her forward progress, not wanting to crowd the vehicle in front. He glanced to his right just as Hank's voice boomed.

"STOP!"

Just below their present location, Mike saw the same thing that Hank had seen moments before.

"Cap, the winds must've shifted," the engineer gasped realizing that they were headed into the mouth of the furnace.

"Yep, let's get an inch and a half on this hillside," Hank barked out his orders as his linemen climbed down from their positions and joined the rescue men who were already pulling the ordered hose from the bed of the engine. Roy and Johnny quickly relinquished their claim on the inch and a half from their own engine as they were ordered to assist in manning the brush truck with its lone occupant, the driver, behind them.

Mike took his place at the controls while Chet took lead on the hose and Marco backed him up. Johnny reached for the nozzle on the line from the brush truck and waited for his partner to back him up before he opened it up. The shifting winds had grown the fire bigger and fiercer than anyone could ever have imagined. The streams of water spewing forth from the fully charged lines seemed to vaporize before their eyes as the searing sea of heat and flames churned upwards towards the fire road. When it became obvious that the inferno was going to jump the fire road, Hank ordered his men to take cover.

The men found themselves in a vulnerable position between their own engine and the brush truck at least seventy-five yards behind with a wall of flames bearing down on them. Mike looked on in absolute horror as his captain, four crewmates, and the driver of the brush truck seemed to face certain death.

"No! NO!" He screamed before the smoke choked him off. His stomach knotted and his throat ached as he tried to swallow the lump he felt there.

"Shit, oh shit!" His heart climbed into his throat with a swiftness he'd never experienced before. How could he stand by and watch his crewmates die? He tried to make it to them way when he saw Hank ordering his men to take cover in the mud on the road. Marco, Roy and the unknown driver lay down with Chet, Johnny and Hank stacking themselves on top of them. Mike watched in total amazement as Johnny and Chet flanked Hank then maneuvered the nozzles so as to release a stream of protective water pouring down on them all. The smoke thickened and Mike returned to his place at the control panel knowing that his friends, his brothers, needed him to ensure their water supply until the swift moving inferno made its final leap. With shaky hands and a heavy heart, he stayed at his post – turning his head to the side twice to empty his stomach of the fear and anguish that seemed to be filling it beyond capacity. His eyes burned as ash and dust became smeared beneath his sticky eyelids. He coughed and choked out a gasping breath cursing the flames and heat, afraid of what he'd find when the beast roared up and made its final leap.

The men on the bottom of the pile of humanity felt the raining of the water above them. Chests tightened, hearts raced and pure unadulterated horror encircled them. Above them, Johnny and Chet continued their battle of showering them all with life-saving water before the fire could shower them with hot torturous embers. Roy wondered briefly if he'd ever see his wife and children again but his thoughts seemed to scurry away when he heard the blood curdling scream of anguish from somewhere to his left.

Mike ignored the intense heat and scorching flames that were scalding his skin. He pulled another line and began using it to protect the engine and the egress of his crew in the narrow road ahead of him. White hot pain seared his neck and face burning the exposed flesh. His uniform and turnouts seemed to be melting to his back and chest while his pants became as molten lava. His flesh began to bubble and his ability to stand wavered when he heard a scream he didn't recognize as his own. Feeling the weakness in his thighs gave him precious little warning before his knees buckled and he stumbled into a crumpled heap beside his rig. He tried to breathe but the air was too hot and he felt the inside of his mouth and throat burning as the noxious fumes were funneled down into his protesting lungs. His last view before the merciful darkness sucked him under was the number 51 on the officer's side of the engine as his unrecognizable burned and blistered left hand tried desperately to hold onto the number that represented so much to him. His final thoughts were of his brothers lying somewhere in the narrow lane behind him; he just hoped that he'd been able to keep them alive.

Eventually, the fire made its escape up the hill leaving behind a mucky muddy blackened mess. In the distance, Chet, Hank and Johnny rolled off the top of the human hotcake stack allowing the three on the bottom to finally find their freedom.

Roy looked in the direction of the inhuman scream he'd heard a few moments earlier and what he saw made his stomach lurch. "M-Mike? MIKE!"

Roy felt like he was trapped in a slow motion movie. His body seemed much heavier than normal and not just from the mud and muck covering his soaked turnouts and boots. He struggled to pull himself up as he and Hank raced to be the first to their fallen engineer. Johnny was close on their heels as Chet helped Marco stand then the two of them rushed to Mike's side.

"Mike, get up!" Hank called out dropping to one knee, fearful tears pooling in the corners of his eyes as he looked at his second in command.

"Mike, come on, man!" Roy said shaking the unconscious and critically injured engineer. He scanned Mike's body quickly and initially assessed his injuries as being burns over 75 percent of his body.

Somewhere in the heavy dark fog that was weighing him down and sucking his breath out of his body, he heard the voice of his captain ordering him up. Mike tried to move or at least groan out a response so Hank would know he wasn't deliberately disobeying him but the heaviness of his body was too much for his limbs to overcome. He tried to pry open his eyes but again his efforts failed. The voices of his other crew mates began drifting into his tormented mind pulling him upwards from the muck and mire imprisoning him.

"C'mon, Stoker."

"Up, Michael Stoker, now!"

The muffled voices grew louder and louder until…..

E!

"Up, Michael Stoker…wake up now, Pal!" Hank was gripping his engineer's t-shirt shaking the man whose reddened pain-filled face was contorted in the grasp of a hellish nightmare.

"C'mon, Stoker," Roy called out patting the face of the sleeping Mike.

"Guhnn-uhh!" Mike's eyes suddenly flew open wide with a gasp as he sucked in the air for which he'd been so desperately searching.

"You a'right?" The voice was Johnny's and as Mike peeled open his eyes he was momentarily startled by the length of Johnny's bedhead hair.

Slowly, he looked from firefighter to firefighter noting that they all sported t-shirts and boxers but not a single one of them wore a flat-top. He suddenly felt cool and pulled the sheet back onto his sweat soaked body. "Y-yea," he exhaled loudly raking a nervous hand through his sticky hair. "Yea, just…just a bad dream I…I guess."

"Guess you weren't dreaming of rescuing Charlie's Angels, huh?"

Mike found the humor in Chet's off the wall comment. "No…no Farrah or Jacqueline tonight," he said softly.

"Kate's my favorite anyway," Marco said half-heartedly.

Mike looked up seeing the older lineman resting his chin on his forearms on the brick half wall. "Whffew…nope…definitely no angels in my dreams tonight."

"Uh, ok let's head back to sleep fellas." Hank looked on worriedly as the color finally began to return to his engineer's face. He noticed Mike looking at the others uneasily. "You wanna talk about it?"

Mike looked around still seemingly shell shocked by his surroundings. Moans and yawnings were uttered as the various firefighters trudged back to their respective bunks. Springs were squeaking as they settled down for what they hoped would be a quiet two more hours before wake-up tones. Hank knew Mike wouldn't likely be going back to sleep and he knew he certainly wouldn't after the wake-up noise his engineer had made.

"Why don't you and I get some coffee and scramble a few eggs huh, pal? Then you can explain to me what was going on up there," he said pointing to Mike's sandy haired head.

Mike huffed sitting up on the edge of his bed trying to get his bearings back. He propped both hands on the edge of the mattress preparing to push off when he looked into the eyes of the man who'd been his mentor for over six years. "Sure…I, uh…sure," he stuttered wanting to say more of what was on his mind but deciding not to with the rest of the crew still within hearing range. Maybe after scrambled eggs and coffee he'd feel more like processing the dream with Captain Stanley. At least, he hoped he'd be able to find the courage to share his fears.

Mike trudged slowly to the kitchen pulling on the suspenders of his turnout pants. Hank made it to the kitchen ahead of his engineer and started a pot of coffee. As he opened the refrigerator door to retrieve the eggs, Mike walked in rubbing the heels of his hands on his reddened eyes.

"Cap, I…I'm sorry." Tired blue eyes struggled to focus on the tall thin man at the stove.

Hank opened the carton of eggs then turned to his second in command. "Nothing to be sorry about," he offered, opening up the cabinet for a bowl to scramble the eggs.

Mike pulled a chair out and plopped himself down hard, elbows propped on the table and chin resting in his hands. He dreaded the impending conversation but in a way he didn't fully understand, he also welcomed it.

Hank whisked the eggs just as the coffee began to percolate. Mike listened to the metallic scraping sound as he traced his finger along the edge of the table. His thoughts were racing in time to his pounding heart. His vision glazed over as his mind drifted back to the horrific nightmare that had been all too real.

Hank set two plates of scrambled eggs down on the table then returned to pour two cups of coffee. He heard the loud exhalation of breath from Mike as he set the coffee down on the table and pulled out his own chair. He scooped up a forkful and chewed slowly, hoping Mike would offer to talk but knowing that the quiet engineer wasn't likely to begin to the conversation.

Mike took a sip of his fresh coffee wincing as the burning sensation he felt when he swallowed the hot liquid reminded him too much of the remnants of the nightmare from which he'd just escaped. He stared at the yellow pile of eggs on his plate knowing he needed to eat something and yet knowing that Hank was waiting on an explanation. He took a tentative bite then felt his captain's eyes boring holes into the top of his head as he looked down. Slowly, he swallowed then took another sip of his coffee before allowing his eyes to meet those of his superior.

"Ah, I guess I should try to explain what that was all about," he said with a nod of his mussed up hair in the direction of the dorm.

Hank tried to offer a smile but worry lines creased his forehead instead. "Well, only if you want to tell me but it might help to get it out in the open." Hank stirred his eggs around on his plate hoping he wasn't about to hear something that might lead to a career change for Mike.

Mike gulped another bite of his eggs washing it down with another sip of coffee. He set the cup down with a nervous hand then began. "I…well, I think I was dreaming about one of the stories I read at the library the other day. It was about an autofireman who was killed in the line of duty over at La Tuna Canyon."

Hank knew the story well. It was still fresh on his mind when he became an engineer. "Yea, I know about that one. He received a Medal of Valor if I remember correctly. Kinda makes you think when you're in the same position doesn't it?"

Mike sat up a little straighter. Hank had hit a nerve with that statement. He felt a cold chill descend along his spine. "You know, that fire was started accidently by two little boys who were just having a pretend camping trip in their backyard. All they wanted to do was…I dunno, maybe roast a few hotdogs or something." He stirred his eggs mindlessly for a moment while Hank allowed him the space to continue his thoughts. "Then yesterday, that fire was started by those two little boys who were sneaking some smokes from their dad. It…it just was too similar I guess."

Hank waited for a moment before he encouraged the younger man to continue. "Tough anytime kids get involved but…but that's not all of it, is it?"

The air between the two men seemed to thicken as they continued to eat; the only sounds in the room were the scraping of forks on plates and the occasional clanking of cups on the table. Finally, Mike felt the pressure to go ahead. With his gut tightening, he took a deep breath and forged ahead.

"I, uh…I'm afraid, Cap," he said in a voice wavering from emotion. "What if…what if I don't have what it takes? What if I'm not," he gulped trying to force himself to speak the words he really didn't want to admit. "What if I'm not able to do that?"

"Do what?"

Mike looked back down at his food, picking at it with his fork. "What if I don't have the guts to stand there and face death the way he did? I mean," he dropped his fork down and lowered his face into his open hands. "What if something like that happens again and the guys are depending on me to keep the water flowing to them and I panic? What if I leave my post to save my own damn hide and abandon my crew?"

"None of us know exactly how we'll react when we face certain death but you, Stoker, are as stoic and brave as any of the rest of us….maybe more so."

Both Mike and Hank looked up at the sound of the voice they both recognized but were surprised at the wisdom he had imparted.

"Gage?"

"Sorry Cap…Mike, but ah…my stomach woke up with the smell of eggs and coffee." He grinned at the two of them, Hank sitting at the head of the table with Mike to his left. He's been standing outside the kitchen door wondering if he should enter the private conversation or not but when he heard Mike questioning himself, he knew he had to do what he could to alleviate the engineer's self-doubt.

"Uh, 's ok ," Mike said as he took his final bite of eggs, embarrassment coloring his face.

Johnny poured himself a cup of coffee then turned around wrapping his free arm around his abdomen as he waited for his coffee to cool a bit. "None of us know how we'll react in any situation until we're faced with it. We just do the best we can when the time comes. We all trust each other here….and..uh, I think we all wonder if we'll have the balls to go into a situation where we might not come out."

Hank and Mike both shared a grin at Johnny's bold statement. "You don't mince words, do ya? Have a seat, Socrates." Hank pulled out the chair opposite Mike and patted it before returning to his own coffee.

Johnny raised one eyebrow, momentarily confused by Hank's comment, but he took the seat anyway.

Hank swallowed his final bite of eggs and pushing his plate toward the center of the table, he began, "I think…no, I know I've underestimated you, John…. and the rest of the guys." He grinned momentarily before he said the statement that was perched on his lips. Paraphrasing Johnny's previous comment, "I believe this crew…every man…has the, uh, testicular fortitude to do whatever it takes to get the job done." He and Mike shared a look before he continued. "Mike and I have been working on a little project for the brass…and I think it's time we brought the rest of you fellas on board…if you're interested?" He brought his cup to his mouth as he waited for a response from the paramedic.

E!

A/N: Below information taken from the Los Angeles Fire Department website regarding the La Tuna Canyon Fire of November 6-11, 1955 and the death from injuries sustained in the line of duty of Autofireman James Catlow who was injured on the first day of the fire. He was burned over 75% of his body and succumbed to his injuries six days later. He was awarded the LAFD Medal of Valor posthumously.

"As the main body of the fire swept over the position, all water was directed to protect the men and the equipment from the effects of the intense heat. Men without hose lines laid in the mud and were kept wet from nearby rigs. Some men stacked up on the ground like hot cakes with the top man keeping the pile wet with a hose line.

It was during this momentary eternity that Autofireman James Catlow brought everlasting credit to himself as well as everyone in the fire service. Hose Wagon 39 was in a narrow spot in the road, as the fire hit there too fast to actually get set. He was able to get two lines into action, and by working one, he performed superhumanly in an effort to protect his equipment for future use, and to keep the road open for men who were ahead of him. His injuries were not accidentally incurred, as he could have retreated merely 10 yards to relative safety. His act of heroism required unbelievable determination and demonstrates to all to see and realize that a devoted fireman will do his full duty regardless of personal cost."

LA Fire: The La Tuna Canyon Brush Fire of 1955 in memory of James Catlow.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Just a quick update this time since the next chapter will be quite lengthy. Thank you for reading and I really appreciate the reviews.

Chapter 9

"If I'm interested?" Johnny quickly splayed his open palm across his t-shirt clad chest, wide toothy grin covering the lower half of his face. "If I'm interested?" He repeated himself looking back and forth between the two men sitting at the table with him. "Are you kiddin' me?" He slammed his open palms down hard on the table then leaned back smugly. "Yea, I'm interested…and I'm sure the guys will be too. When do we tell 'em?"

Hank had been watching Johnny's reaction with his coffee cup suspended just beneath his lips. He chuckled to himself, returning the cup to the table as a safety precaution. "You sure are eager, John." He leaned forward lifting his eyes in Mike's direction.

"Ahem," Mike began clearing his throat feeling slightly less self-conscious now that the topic of conversation had shifted away from him and his personal insecurities. "Cap, why don't I fix some scrambled eggs and toast for the guys while you make another pot of coffee?" He nodded his head slightly in Johnny's direction with his next comment. "Then Johnny can fill the fellas in on it while they eat."

Johnny leaned back rubbing his hands together briskly, smile still plastered on his face as the other two men rose from their seats taking their plates to the sink. Suddenly, his mouth gaped open, closed, then opened again as he spun around in his seat, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Uh…hey, um…what is it I'm s'posed to tell 'em exactly?"

Mike couldn't stop the belly heaving laughter that rumbled up from somewhere deep in his gut. His face broke out in a huge grin just as Hank slapped the young paramedic on the back. Mike reached for his cup of coffee, needing a warmer for the task of preparing eggs and toast for the three men who as of yet had not woken up. "I think maybe Cap should fill all of you in at the same time, huh?"

"Yea, John. It's kind of complicated and I'd rather explain it just once. Besides, maybe you men have some ideas we haven't thought of yet," he said gesturing between himself and his rosy cheeked snickering engineer.

"Sounds good, Cap." Johnny reached for his cup of coffee just as Mike finished topping it off. He cupped his hands around the warm ceramic cup, bringing it to his mouth to blow a cooling breath across the black liquid; the wisp of steam floated swiftly away from his puckered lips. Behind him, the familiar sounds of cracking eggs and a squeaking refrigerator door permeated the room while outside, the county of Los Angeles was beginning to greet the dawn.

E!

Hank studied the eyes of the men sitting around the table. "Any questions?"

Johnny sat staring at his empty plate, thumb absently stroking the condensation on his mostly empty glass of milk. Hank shifted his gaze to Mike who gave him a slight shrug.

"You think it'll work, Cap?"

Hank followed Marco's voice as the lineman rose from his seat to retrieve the second pot of coffee of the morning. He waited for Marco to pour another cup and then warm up his own. "Yea…yea, I do. It's already proven to work so all we've got to do is present it well."

"I just can't believe they have it…and we don't," Chet mumbled around his last bite of toast.

"Well believe it," Roy said slapping the Irishman on the back and leaning back in his seat. "I read about it a while ago."

Hank looked to his engineer who was standing near the sink leaning against the cabinet. He could see worry lines etching across the younger man's face as he stared unseeing at the tile floor and Hank wondered if he was reliving his nightmare from earlier? Hank wasn't sure but one thing he was certain of; Mike needed to get some rest and he probably needed to distance himself from the research too, at least for a time.

"Well, I don't know about anybody else, but I'm in!"

Marco smiled at Johnny's enthusiasm. "Me too," he offered lifting up his coffee cup as if toasting their captain.

"Absolutely," Roy agreed; a smile lighting up his round face.

Hank watched as Roy, Johnny and Marco all turned to face the lone holdout of the group. Chet looked up into the questioning eyes of his shift mates as a smile that could only be described as devious seeped slowly out from beneath his bushy mustache. His blue eyes sparkled as he cast them in the direction of the other men in the room.

Johnny's countenance immediately fell. This was a look he recognized well. "What?"

The sound of Johnny's sinking voice brought Mike out of his reverie. Hank noticed Mike's stance change as he shifted standing taller and clearing his throat. He could tell that Mike was struggling to paint on a mask that would hide his true feelings. When their eyes briefly met, both men quickly shifted their gazes away from each other.

"Gage," Chet's grin broadened. "I can't believe you haven't thought of this?"

"Thought o' what?"

"Ahem," Chet began making sure the attention of the entire room was focused on him. "Ok, Cap…if we give this our best effort…all in…AND," he hesitated for effect raising an index finger. "When this gets the approval of the brass…will you finally tell us why you burned McConnike's hat?"

Snickers made their way around the table while Hank scrubbed an open hand down the side of his weary face with a groan. "Oouugh," he sounded with a loud exhalation, rapping his fingers on the kitchen table. He quickly contemplated the pros and cons of the situation before he continued. "Yea…ok, sure. If this makes it…with your help, mind you… then you bet I'll tell you. My personal shame in exchange for countless lives?" He made eye contact with each man before he finished his thought. "Yep," he leaned back in his chair pushing away from the table, "it's worth it."

"Aww-right," Johnny jumped up from his chair. "That's the spirit, Cap. I'll volunteer to do the last leg of the research. I'll just need a little help." He looked down at his partner with a questioning look.

"Uh, sorry but I can't, Junior…I promised Joanne to help her paint Jennifer's room."

"Mike?"

Mike looked startled at the sound of Johnny calling his name. "Uh, ah…sorry…can't." He didn't offer an explanation. How could he explain that he didn't want to face Ryleigh again. Not after she'd asked him to call her then when he did, an angry man answered the phone. No, he wouldn't be going back to that branch of the library, not voluntarily anyway. He lowered his gaze away from Johnny's inquiring eyes.

Johnny turned quickly but before he could even ask the question, Marco thwarted his efforts with an upraised hand. "Sorry…promised to visit my Momma today and help her around the house. And you do NOT want me to disappoint her."

Johnny shook his head negatively as he thought about all the wonderful meals Mrs. Lopez had provided to her 'boys' as she so fondly referred to Marco and his crew mates. His mouth watered with all the memories of enchaladas, fiesta tacos, fresh salsa and Mexican chili. No, there was no way he wanted to be the reason Marco cancelled his time with his Momma.

"Damn, I hate being the kid who always gets picked last," Chet grumbled loudly sauntering up beside the taller John Gage.

"I was gettin' to ya," Johnny's animated face defended with obvious irritation in his loud voice.

"Yep…you have a way of gettin' to everybody, Gage." Chet grinned at his own joke, turning to walk away just as the others seemed to get it as well. Delayed muffled chuckles echoed around the room.

"Real. Funny," Johnny said using his most sarcastic voice.

"Pick me up at 2:00 this afternoon," Chet tossed over his shoulder walking past the gawking face of the paramedic on his way to the latrine to brush his teeth, another mischievous smirk blooming on his face. _The McConnike Mission…oh, this is gonna be so much fun…_

E!


	10. Chapter 10

Warning: strong language

A/N: Any technical errors are mine.

Chapter 10

He pulled back on the curtain, scanning the parking lot of his apartment complex then cast an exasperated glance at his watch. It was a quarter past two and he couldn't help but wonder where his research partner might be. _Come on, Gage…we've got work to do, man. _He released his fingers from the brown and gold curtain, turning to his left as he let go, but quickly did a double take when his eyes caught a flash of white turning into the parking lot. He exited his apartment in a rush, hesitating only long enough to lock the door then descended the flight of stairs two at a time.

Johnny reached down to adjust the volume on his radio. He enjoyed riding with his windows down, relishing the resulting breeze blowing through his dark hair. It gave him a feeling of being alone in nature, not enveloped by the mass of concrete, metal, smog and humanity that was Los Angeles. But now that he had pulled to a stop at Building C of Palm Escape Apartments, he was aware of the sound of his music that Chet's older neighbors probably didn't appreciate and turned the dial to lower the volume.

"'Bout damn time, Johnny!"

The swearing made Johnny look up just in time to see the head of dark curly hair pause at his passenger's side window. "Good afternoon to you too, Chet." Johnny couldn't help but toss a grin at his grumbling friend as the shorter man climbed into the passenger's side of his rover. He waited for the door to slam shut then shifted into reverse and headed out of the parking lot.

"We gotta lot o' work to do. Why're you out goofin' off?"

Johnny laid his elbow on the open window ledge squinting into the sun with a smile then casually propped his right hand on top of the steering wheel. The drive to the library was neither long nor along crowded busy streets so he relaxed allowing a chuckle to slip out from his crooked grin. "Take it easy. 'S not like we're on a run or somethin'. We've got hours before they close." He waited for a response from the lineman but all he got was a huff. "Aahhhh, must have some plans for t'night, huh?"

Chet rolled his eyes regretting he'd ever mentioned punctuality to his friend, especially since the two of them were notorious for showing up at the station with barely enough time to get into uniform before roll call. "No…no plans, thank you very much…just want to do a good job on this, ya know?"

"Yea, yea…I hear ya," Johnny said swiping the blinker then turning into the parking lot of the library.

"Do ya think you can be serious for just a little while, Johnny…just for a few hours maybe?" Chet could feel his ire rising from his chest. "I REALLY wanna know why he did it. That's why this McConnike Mission has to be perfect."

"McConnike Mission? Are you kiddin' me?" Johnny released a cackling laugh that reached Chet's burning ears over the loud creaking of the rover's opening doors. "You named it?"

"Yea, so what's it to ya?"

Johnny slapped his friend on the back as they made their way up the marble steps of the library. "Nothin', Chet…in fact, I kinda like it."

E!

Edith raised an eyebrow above the rim of her red reading glasses; a scornful expression decorating her features. "A-hem," she cleared her throat gaining the attention of the two young men joking as they entered the front door of the library – her library. As soon as the loud duo looked up she removed a sharp yellow number two pencil from behind her left ear and tapped the 'Quiet Please' sign centered on the circulation desk.

Chet heard the admonishment of the older librarian and halted his forward progress a half second before Johnny. He raised his shoulders in silent apology grabbing the elbow of his taller friend to silence him as well. Johnny realized how their abrasive entrance must have sounded and raised up on his tip toes for the last few steps to the desk. He gave the librarian his best 'Gage charm' grin much to the chagrin of his eye rolling friend.

"Oh, yes ma'am," he leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "We're firefighters and we're looking for information on the history of the fire department." His bright smile quickly faded when she looked upward briefly and exhaled an exasperated huff.

"What is it with you firemen lately?"

Chet had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and decided he'd better step in for the rescue; problem was he didn't know who he was rescuing from whom. "Ms., um," Chet squinted to read the name tag pinned to her navy blue sweater draped over her shoulders. "McMillian, we don't mean to interrupt you or anything so if you'll just point us in the right direc …" He stopped when she once again retrieved her yellow pencil and pointed back towards the front door.

"Hey, we're tax payers, ya know. You can't just kick us out of here for no rea…" Johnny's rant was quickly quashed.

"Room on the right as you make your way back towards the entrance, back shelf," she explained with a slight nasal whine.

Embarrassment tinted Johnny's face as he realized she had been answering Chet's question, not ejecting them from the public library. "Oh…uh," he grinned sheepishly. "Sorry…um, thanks," he offered taking a tentative step backwards. He looked down at his feet just as Chet grabbed his arm ushering him in the direction of the side room.

E!

Ryleigh Abrams returned from her late lunch, entering the back door reserved only for library staff. She smiled at Edith as she stowed her purse beneath the counter of the circulation desk.

"History of the fire department seems to be a popular topic lately," Edith said softly without looking up from the desk where she sat.

"Huh?" Ryleigh turned back to face the older woman then quickly spun back around looking at the doorway of the first room near the entrance, noticing that the light was on. "Oh…so I see."

She stood mesmerized staring at the entrance to the room. A half smile found its way to her face as she wondered if perhaps Mike came back to see her. The half-smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared as she dismissed the notion as ridiculous. She had given him her number and he'd never called. She could feel the heat of her blush rising to color her cheeks as she remembered their last encounter. She leaned forward on the wooden desk sucking her lower lip between her teeth in frustrated contemplation. _Oh…why not, _she reasoned with herself as she pulled back the gate to allow her access to the rest of the library and quickly adjusted her glasses, primped her hair, and with an air of confidence that was completely false she walked towards the front of the building.

E!

"Hey…I think this one would be perfect, Gage."

Johnny looked up from the newspaper articles he was reading. "What's it about?"

"Well, it says here," Chet began, "that back in 1963 there was…"

"Lemme see that," Johnny reached for the document just as a beautiful voice floated into the room just ahead of an equally beautiful young brunette.

"So, had to come back for mor…oh," Ryleigh stood wide-eyed in the doorway; her forward progress quickly halted by the sight before her. She was expecting to see the handsome sandy haired engineer, not the two dark haired young men who sat before her with their mouths hanging open. "I'm terribly sorry. I…I thought you were somebody else."

Johnny's facial expressions turned from awe to flirtatious in the matter of a split second. A smile swept across his face and his brown eyes sparkled as he slowly stood up. "Oh…please don't be sorry. I'm sure not."

"Cut it out, Johnny!" Chet's voice sounded like a growl exiting his mouth through gritted teeth.

Johnny cut his eyes at his still seated friend then quickly redirected them to the young woman who stood before him shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "I'm John Gage and this is my friend Chester Kelly."

Chet pressed his lips into a thin line at Johnny's use of his formal name. He shook his head then returned back to the article he was reading as Johnny sauntered up to the embarrassed young woman.

"Well, John my nam…"

"Johnny…please, call me Johnny." His smile broadened across his handsome features not realizing he'd interrupted her.

"Ok, uh…Johnny…um, my name is Ryleigh. I didn't mean to disturb the two of you. I have a friend who's a firefighter and he's been doing some research on the history of the fire department too; I thought maybe you were him." Ryleigh knew she wasn't hiding her disappointment very well.

"What's his name? Maybe I know 'im."

Ryleigh almost blurted out Mike's name but then thought better of it. "Oh, well…doesn't matter. So, uh…can I help you with something?"

Johnny knew he really didn't need any help but he certainly didn't want to lose the company of such a beautiful young lady. Propping a hand on one hip he spun around looking back at the table where he and Chet had their research materials spread out then back around to Ryleigh. "Uh, yea…actually…uh, I could use some copies of some of these articles…if you don't mind, that is?"

Ryleigh felt a bit of relief. At least his request was professional in nature. For a moment, she thought he was going to ask her out. He was handsome, just like Mike, but there was a bit of arrogance about him that she wasn't entirely comfortable with. She knew most women her age liked the flirtatious types but she was more intrigued by the shy confidence of men like Mike. _Oh stop it, Ryleigh. He's gone. Forget about him! _She fought to dismiss his image from her mind. "Ok, Johnny, just show me which ones you need copies of and I'll be glad to help you."

Quickly, he turned around and began rounding up various articles, piling them into a mess in his haste.

"Mine!" Chet slammed his open palm down on the article he'd been reading.

Johnny nearly jumped at the sound of Chet's possessive voice as his hands covered the pages he was reading. He wasn't going to let his friend drool all over this particular article while he was skirt chasing.

"Fine…no problem." Johnny continued scooping up the materials. He saw Ryleigh make a move towards him to retrieve the papers from his hands. "Oh, allow me," he crooned with a nod of his head toward the doorway.

Ryleigh stifled a giggle while hearing Chet fail to stifle his groan. "Very well…follow me please."

Johnny gave Chet a quick wink as he left the room behind Ryleigh leaving Chet alone to finish his research. "Like a stray puppy," Chet mused then returned his attention to the article about the disaster of December 14, 1963."

The room had grown quiet with his friend now gone and Chet's determination kicked into an even higher gear. He began to read the small black print and allowed his eyes to scan over the graphic pictures of the horrors resulting from the disaster. Eventually, his eyes began to glass over and the printed words and images blurred from black and white to color as his mind took him and his crew back to that fateful December day….

E!E!

Johnny made the sharp turn into the back parking lot of Station 51. He pulled up his emergency brake then looked into his rear view mirror taking careful inventory of his face. The bruising was bad around his left eye and he dreaded having to explain it to his captain. What he dreaded even more was the ribbing he was going to take from Chet. After all, that's who was with him when it happened and he knew all the details; something Johnny knew his friend would enjoy sharing with the rest of the crew. Gingerly, he stepped out of his car, his knee still sore, and walked inside the station with his duffle bag dangling in his hand. His shoulder was still too sore to sling the strap over as he normally would have done. He hesitated before the locker room door, inhaling deeply then plastering on his best fake grin before pushing the door open to face his crew.

"Mornin', mornin', mornin'," he rambled on, quickly slinging his duffle bag into his locker and turning his back to Mike and Marco.

"Whoa," Marco exhaled with a whistle.

Roy was standing close enough to his partner that Johnny couldn't hide the bruising and swelling of his left eye. He could feel the older man staring at him but refused to look in Roy's direction.

Roy propped one leg up on the bench tying his shoe without looking down; his face was turned to his younger, and very bruised, partner. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Nothin'," Johnny said without moving from his place in front of his locker. He swiftly removed his shirt hoping no one would notice the bruise on his shoulder as he quickly pulled on his blue uniform shirt.

"Hold it!"

Johnny stopped what he was doing immediately and huffed dropping his head. He knew Roy had seen the bruise and knew his partner wanted a better look. "It's just a bruise, a'right? It's nothin'."

"That isn't nothing, my friend," Roy uttered as he lightly touched the tender area on Johnny's left shoulder.

"Yea, Gage…messin' with some guy's babe?"

"Stow it, Stoker!" Johnny turned around to shout the words over his right shoulder wincing at the pain the twisting action caused his right knee. He waited for Mike's response, knowing that he'd been rather harsh to his engineer friend, when the person he least wanted to see waltzed into the locker room.

Mike stood with his mouth open ready to launch his own retort at the short tempered fireman when Chet's entrance interrupted him.

"Soooo, Gage…tell 'em about yesterday?" Chet stood rocking back on his heels, hands in his pockets.

"Nope," Johnny pulled on his pants stuffing his shirt tail inside the waistband. "Figured I'd let ya have your fun." He turned around and sat down, refusing to acknowledge the pain he felt from bending his knee, and began putting on his shoes. He knew Chet would spare no detail of yesterday's fiasco.

"Oh, man…I wish you guys could have seen him. Ol' Gage here was standing on the beach in his swim trunks with a babe on each arm and these girls were stacked," he emphasized the idea with his hands held out from his chest.

"CHET! Cut out your lip flappin'." Johnny knew he wasn't going to stop Chet from telling the story but he had to at least make a show of it for the sake of what little dignity he had left.

The young man was unstoppable at this point and gave his embarrassed friend a sly grin. "Anyway, this chick from UCLA was taking pictures for some art class she's taking. It was just like the song 'Surf City' with two girls for every boy, dig it?" Chet waved his open palm in the air before them to heighten the effect of his story.

"Chet, it's December. Nobody's going to be on the beach in swim suits in December." Marco was beginning to think Chet was making the whole story up.

"To make a little bread they will." Chet scoffed back. "Oh, and fellas…you do know what happens when chicks in bikinis are outside in the cold air right?" He waggled his eyebrows at the back of Johnny's lowered head.

"Chet, I'm warnin' ya. You're really startin' to bug me." Johnny was becoming irritated knowing where the story was going.

"Don't flip your wig, Gage," he said turning briefly to the object of his story then returned to the rest of the crew. "So, these two chicks were standing beside Johnny and he's got this surfboard underneath his arm right?" Chet's smile was broadening as he neared his punch line. "And he tries to get a better view of the two babes…from the front, ya know…like he wants to cop a feel…and takes a step ahead of 'em and turns just a little too much to the one on his right and smacks the chick on his left in the buns with his surfboard….ahh..haahaa," Chet doubled over clutching his stomach as various snickers echoed around the locker room.

"Ok, alright. But that doesn't explain HIS bruises," Roy said facing the laughing Irishman while jerking his head toward his still seated and seething partner.

"Oh, that's the best part, DeSoto. See, the chick with the camera is just snapping away at the pictures of the whole thing and Johnny here asks for a retake. Well…heehee, she decides she needs some water shots see…."

"Hold on, Chet." Roy held up his open palm then turned to look at his partner. "Don't tell me you went surfing, Johnny?"

"Oh no worries, Roy. He didn't surf…believe me, he didn't surf.…oohh, heehee, ah haahaa. Oh…it was a real gas!"

The other men in the room began to join in the laughter with Chet. Images of Johnny crashing into the cold water fluttered through the minds of both Mike and Marco. After all, one look at Johnny and they both knew how it obviously ended.

Roy looked at the others then down at his partner again. "Johnny, you never told me you could surf."

"That's 'cause he can't, Roy! The ditz wiped-out in ankle deep water!" Chet once again doubled over losing his breath from laughing so hard. "All he had to do was run along the water line with the board and just create a little splash around his legs. But…oohhh, ahhahh…he tumbled around in the surf, board wacked him in the face and shoulder then he got slammed pretty hard into a rock along the edge of the water."

"Johnny, no wonder you look like you got pounded," Mike consoled.

"Oh wait, wait Mike. That's not the best part." Chet's face was beet red from laughing.

"Chet, I'm gonna pound YOU if ya tell 'em abo…"

"While ol' Gage here was rolling around in the sand…he, oh… aahhhhaaa…he B.A.'d the chicks!"

Johnny wished he could crawl through the drain in the shower stall and disappear beneath the city. He leaned over holding his face in his hands while the realization of what had happened appeared on the faces of the men.

"Johnny? You mooned them?" The voice belonged to a grinning Roy.

Johnny never looked up feeling the fast throbbing of his pulse around his swollen eye. "Yea…my shorts got pulled down while I was rollin' around out there." He looked up then with daggers in his eyes aimed at Chet. "Are ya done down, Kelly?"

Chet slapped the brooding Johnny on his good shoulder. "Didn't know if you'd make it in to work this mornin' or not, hodad." He continued to chuckle as he pushed open the door and headed out for roll call.

"Just wait…when he least expects it…I'm gonna give 'im a Melvin…in front o' everybody," Johnny mumbled to the others still standing around him.

"Now THAT, I gotta see," Mike laughed pushing his hips off the sink and following Chet out the door with Marco close on his heels.

Roy turned to his sulking partner. "You really did that, partner?"

Johnny's hurt look answered Roy's question. He returned his head to his hands in total humiliation. "Yea…I bare assed 'em, right there rollin' around in the sand and water just like he said."

Roy waited a minute before he asked his next question. He placed a supportive hand on his partner's non-bruised shoulder knowing the younger man's ego was far more bruised than his body. "Ok to work, Junior?"

Johnny stood up carefully brushing his hair out of his swollen eye. "Yea, yea…don't sweat it, Roy. I'm just a little sore 's all."

E!E!E!

After roll call, the station got called out to a fatal traffic accident on a deserted stretch of highway. They had just returned and were cleaning up from their lunch when the phone rang.

"Station 51, Fireman Kelly speaking…..oh, yessir." Chet covered up the receiver. "Cap, it's HQ for you."

"I'll take it in my office," Hank stated standing up and hurrying out of the kitchen. He closed the door behind him and as soon as he picked his phone up, he heard Chet hang up the kitchen extension.

"What makes these dip sticks do it?"

Roy took another sip of his coffee before he answered. "I dunno, Mike. Playing chicken in vehicles isn't the brightest idea but then again…we were kids once too." He lowered his coffee cup thinking of his own young son. "Makes me worry about Chris growing up, ya know?"

Johnny looked forlornly at the two men. Any time they lost a victim, it was tough but when the victim was a 16 year old kid it just made it even more difficult. Johnny remembered the look on the face of the second victim, the one with only a broken nose and fractured wrist. His eyes were wild and his entire body was shaking with the shock of knowing that his adversary was deceased. Johnny had been the first rescuer to get to the blue dodge pick-up with the smashed up front driver's quarter panel. The young man's eyes were staring lifeless at the broken steering column; his neck tilted unnaturally lying on his left shoulder. Eerily, there was only a tiny trickle of blood from a cut along the ridge of his left brow. Johnny knew that his death had been instant. Roy had been the rescue man assigned to the survivor and they both wished they could have done more for the young man. He was shaking so violently that it took both he and Roy to hold him still for the ambulance attendants to strap him to the stretcher. He wasn't yet feeling any pain but both men knew that the pain would likely come before the ambulance got to the hospital. It was a long ride and his adrenaline was going to wear off sooner or later. Roy would be the one in the back with him when the pain started and Johnny did not envy him. The sound of Hank's voice brought him back from his morbid reverie.

"Well, men…we've got a crisis on our hands. The Baldwin Hills Reservoir has a leak and the surrounding area is being evacuated. We're being called up to be on standby to assist if," he gulped before he continued. "If the leak can't be stopped and it floods."

A chorus of whispered swears made its way around the room as the already depressed mood worsened.

"Well ain't this a bitchin' day," Johnny mumbled in his most sarcastic voice. "I was already bummed out when I got here then we lose a kid on that last run. Now this."

Hank chose to ignore the comments and continue his report. "We're going to be staging closer to the site but we've got to remain available within our own area too." He rubbed his forehead in a manner that his men knew well. Hank was worried about this one. Somehow, he always knew when things were going to go bad and if the worry lines were any indication, he obviously knew that disaster was a mere few hours away.

E!E!

Just as Hank had feared, the evacuation order was only a few hours old when the breached wall surrendered to the herculean force of water it was holding behind it. Many residents had managed to escape - many but not all. The call to action was nearly immediate as the word spread through the staging area where Station 51 had been strategically assembled. With red lights flashing and sirens blaring, the emergency vehicles barreled through the traffic arriving at the scene only a few moments after the call came in. The men watched helplessly as a wall of water rushed along the streets collecting cars and homes along the way. The sounds made by the rushing water, creaking and breaking structures, and metal slamming against metal would never leave the memory of those who witnessed the carnage first hand.

"Looks like a bunch o' damn Monopoly pieces," Johnny mumbled as he and the rest of the crew stood on higher ground watching the swift waters down below. Above them, almost as loud as the churning flood, was the sound of helicopters. One was a news helicopter from KTLA but the other three were being piloted by their brothers, fellow firefighters searching for survivors in the swirls of death and destruction below.

Not long after the sighting of the helicopters by 51's crew, the rescues began. Hank called his crew together to explain what was being expected of them on this assignment. None of them were comfortable with water rescues, Johnny least of all. They had all prepared to test fate by rushing into burning buildings to save life and property, prepared to lay down their lives in service to their fellow man; none of them, not a single man from 51's A-shift, ever considered that he might pay the ultimate sacrifice during a water disaster. But that possibility was now swirling only minutes away from them.

"Listen up men," Hank called out as the three department copters hovered overhead preparing to land. He looked into the eyes of each man, silently praying this would not be the last alarm for anyone in his crew or the department. He saw the looks on their faces, the determination in their eyes, and a swell of pride brought tears to his own. For not a man standing before him showed any outward sign of reservation for the job ahead of him. He swiped at his eyes, feigning the removal of the swirling dust the rotor blades were kicking up near them. "This is it, two per copter. Use your lifelines and protective gear." He watched as Chet tightened the strap beneath his chin and Marco double checked the closures on his coat. "I'm matching you up based on body size, strength, and skill set. Ok, Chet and Roy, copter one." He watched the two men scan the area in search of their assigned helicopter then hold their helmets tighter on their heads as they walked against the wind in the direction of the chopper. "Marco and Johnny, copter two." Marco was a step ahead of Johnny as the two men leaned into the wind hustling to their ride as well. He looked to his right, into the crystal eyes of his second in command. "Sorry, Mike. But you're stuck with me on the third bird." Hank wasn't sure but he thought he saw a slight smile flash on his engineer's face. It was gone before Hank had a chance to confirm its existence but he returned his own quick version to match it, just in case.

"I'm honored, Cap," Mike said in a voice much louder than his usual speaking voice, the noise level around them was increasing as the other two helicopters became airborne. The two quickly boarded the only chopper that remained on the ground and soon all members of Station 51 were heading to locations where there were people needing their help.

E!E!

"Roy DeSoto," Roy said by way of introduction.

"Chet Kelly," came the voice behind him.

"Patrick Morgan," the pilot offered up to the two men boarding his chopper. "It's bad, fellas."

His words sank into the hearts of the two longtime friends; neither man looked at the other as they were lifted skyward but both looked down below at their fellow shift mates heading to their respective assignments.

Marco pulled open the white door and crawled into place, Johnny close on his heels.

"Hi, John Gage." Johnny never looked up as he began preparing for the rescues to come.

"Marco Lopez," the older man followed looking at their pilot.

"Richard Parker," the pilot spoke up. "Hang on, this is one helluva mess."

"Seen anybody?"

Richard knew what Gage meant and decided to answer him as truthfully as he could. "Yea…got one on a roof that looks like a fairly easy rescue. Gonna head to her first."

Marco and Johnny gave silent nods as Richard got them in the air then made a sharp turn to the left. He hovered not too far above the carnage flowing below them as they rushed to the roof where he'd last seen the woman clinging waiting for help. This time, he wouldn't have to see the look of horror in her eyes as he flew away from her because this time he'd have the help he needed to get her inside the chopper and to a safe location.

The third chopper was lifting off as Hank Stanley made the introductions. "Hello, Captain Hank Stanley. This is my engineer, Firefighter Specialist Mike Stoker."

The pilot acknowledged the duo then returned his attention to the task at hand. "Name's Alfred Carmack but most folks just call me Mack."

Mike felt his stomach drop suddenly as they began their trek across a flooded apartment complex. Rarely did he ever have to depend on someone else to get his crew to the scene and now, not only was he relinquishing his control to another person, but in a way he was surrendering it to three men; three different pilots who carried a portion of his crew with them. His heart slammed around inside his chest as he tried to force himself to breathe slowly. These three men were pilots and fellow firefighters. He'd trusted his life to other firefighters in the line of duty many times and this time was no different. Or so he tried to convince himself as they made their way toward a building where their pilot had seen two women struggling against the mud and sludge that had been rising around them earlier.

E!E!

Patrick looked into the sun as he turned toward the garage. The water level was rising and with it more debris was being caught up and pushed along with the torrents of water. Then, ahead he saw the young blonde haired woman huddled along the edge of the garage. He could see the water was rising and somehow knew what she was contemplating. _No..don't step off that ledge! _Part of a roof top was being swept along the side of the garage and it looked as if their victim might try to ride it to safety. Just when he thought she was going to step off, she looked up and began waving at him frantically.

Behind him, Chet and Roy were getting into place to assist her on board. Patrick slowly lowered the helicopter down until the skids were barely touching the top of the garage. Roy felt the touchdown and quickly exited the chopper with his lifeline tied on. Chet made sure the line was secure and let out only the amount Roy needed in order to reach the young woman. In less than a minute the shivering woman was safe inside the chopper scrambling to Chet for safety. She quickly pulled her knees to her chin and held them tightly, trying with all her might to slow down the shaking she was experiencing.

"Take it easy," Chet crooned. "You're safe now. We're gonna get ya outta here." He watched the blonde haired woman try to speak then saw her tears when she realized she couldn't.

"It's okay, you've had a bad scare. The shakes will go away and your voice will come back real soon. Are you hurt anywhere?" Roy waited for her response and was relieved when she nodded negatively.

The trip back to the staging area was brief. Roy opened the door and was greeted by another rescue man from 99's who helped the young woman out of the chopper. She tried to voice her gratitude to her three rescuers but once again was only able to offer them a quick smile. That was enough for the trio to feel good about the job they'd done. But the happiness was short lived as they were soon airborne again in search of more victims.

E!

Richard knew where he'd last seen the middle aged woman. She had been holding tightly to the gable end of her roof with one hand and cradling her copper colored Chihuahua with the other. She was wearing a bright red sweater, probably a Christmas sweater he surmised, which would make her easier to find. He knew he was near the place he'd last scene her house when he realized that the house was no longer on its foundation.

"There! Someone's on that roof!"

Richard recognized the voice as that of the young rescue man, John Gage. He looked in the direction the younger man was pointing and saw his victim, floating along still holding onto the roof of her house. Somehow, she was also still holding on to the tiny dog as well. "Damn it!" He looked ahead to see where the roof might be heading and saw a grove of tree tops directly in the path.

Johnny and Marco also saw what the pilot saw and knew what had to be done. Johnny tied on his lifeline as Marco secured it to the chopper. A second lifeline was quickly tied creating a type of harness. If the trees ahead could stop the forward progress of the roof for just a few minutes then Richard could get Gage close enough to be able to step out onto the roof, tie off the woman, and hopefully guide her into the awaiting chopper before the roof broke free and continued its tumultuous journey.

Beneath them, the woman held tightly to Penny, her Chihuahua puppy, as she watched the surreal scene unfold before her eyes. She was cold and in total shock from the nightmare she currently found herself in. She could hear a man's voice but it sounded very far away from her even though she could see Johnny standing just a few feet from her. She knew he was speaking to her but she had no idea what he was saying.

Johnny could tell that his victim wasn't comprehending the directions he was giving her. He also knew that he had very little time. Without warning, he quickly snatched the wet dog from her grasp then looped the lifeline around her securing it underneath her arms. "Ma'am? Ma'am, I need for you to try to stand for me. We've got to take a few steps over to that helicopter." When he got no response, he tried lifting her up slightly. Miraculously, her feet found enough of a hold to support her weight as he half guided and half carried her closer and closer to Marco's outstretched arms. Marco held onto the woman, easing her into the copter just as the roof beneath them shifted.

"JOHNNY," he called out when he saw the younger man slip then began pulling with every fiber of his being to bring his friend inside the safety of the chopper. Richard struggled to keep the chopper as still as possible knowing he had a man down on the slippery roof. Both he and Marco breathed a sigh of relief when Johnny's helmet and hands appeared in the doorway. With only seconds to spare, Marco tugged one last time pulling Johnny inside the chopper just as the roof lurched forward with a dying groan. Richard lifted them off again and the three men watched in horror as the roof broke in half and then splintered as additional debris slammed into it, breaking the tree tops as the debris pile floated away.

"Pe..Penny," the woman sniffed realizing that her companion had not made it inside the helicopter with her and yet not knowing when she'd lost her grip on the tiny dog.

Marco had seen Johnny removing the dog from the victim's grasp and knew that when it came to human life or canine life, the human won every time. He also knew that Gage was an animal lover and that he'd only done what was absolutely necessary at the moment. Still, he couldn't understand why his friend was breathing heavily leaning his back against the inside wall of the chopper with a goofy grin plastered across his face. Then he watched as Johnny dug deeply into his turnout coat pocket and withdrew a tiny, shivering, and wet copper colored dog.

"Penny!" The woman could hardly believe her eyes. The little dog yelped as she tried to wiggle free of Johnny's grasp.

"There ya go, girl," he said handing the dog back into the welcoming embrace of the crying woman in the red Christmas sweater.

"Tha…ah, thank…y-you." Her lips were trembling too much for her to form the words she was trying to say but finally she managed to get her words of gratitude out just as they landed in a grassy patch of ground near where several ambulances were waiting for victims.

As soon as their cargo was unloaded, the trio was off again in search of anyone else in need of rescuing.

E!E!

The sludge was knee deep by the time Mack had gotten his two firefighters to the scene of their rescue. He had managed to land on a small dirt mound but had told them that they'd need to be quick. The water was rising fast and he didn't know how long the dry mound would remain as such.

Hank and Mike both knew that the fastest way to rescue the two trapped women was to each take a victim and return her to the helicopter. They waded through the mud and debris as rapidly as they could but each found the going extremely slow. Whether it was from their adrenaline rush or from the weight of the muck on their boots, they weren't sure. Finally, they found themselves on one side of a short brick patio wall looking at two very frightened women on the other. The older of the two was sitting in a wheelchair with the other doing her best to block the debris from inflicting damage as it was washed by them.

"Cap, I got this one. Can you help the other lady?"

Hank knew without looking that Mike was assigning himself to the rescue of the wheelchair bound victim. He also knew there was no time to argue; Mike was younger and stronger. He held out his hand to the younger woman who gratefully accepted it then helped ease her over the three foot high wall without losing her footing. He pulled her arm over his shoulder, holding his other around her waist as they trudged back to the awaiting helicopter. He knew that the quicker he got her safe inside the chopper the sooner he could return to help Mike.

The trip seemed to take hours but Hank knew it was only a matter of moments for the two of them to traverse the distance from the flooded patio to the helicopter. He helped the younger woman inside then turned to make the trip back to help Mike with his rescue. Much to his surprise, Mike had already managed to pull the woman over his shoulder and was slowly and carefully closing the gap between them.

It took more effort than Mike had ever remembered using to carry such a frail victim to safety but then again, he'd never done it with sacks of lead tied to his feet before either. The slow movement of his legs through the mushy filthy water was painfully slow but he managed to get within a few yards of the chopper door when he felt her weight being lifted off his back. Panic filled his veins as he thought she was being swept away from his grasp but the voice of his captain calmed him down.

"I got her now, Mike."

Mike inhaled a deep breath as he relinquished his burden to his superior. He quickly turned to assist Hank in getting the woman and his own fatigued self safely inside then slammed the door shut behind them. He heard soft muffled cries coming from the two hugging women and leaned his head back against the cool metal of the helicopter as Mack lifted off heading for the refuge of the awaiting triage area.

E!E!

The rescues continued for a couple of hours, each one seemingly more difficult than the last. Roy and Chet pulled an elderly man to safety who had somehow managed to hold onto the roof of his car that became lodged between two buildings. Marco and Johnny helped rescue a father and his teenage daughter from the roof of a grocery store while Mack positioned Hank and Mike to aid a man clinging to the base of a small tree with one hand and a fence with the other. Over and over again the men of Station 51 and the fire department pilots risked their own lives in an effort to save others. Not everyone was rescued but they couldn't focus on those lost at the moment. Their minds had to stay sharp as their energy waned and their fatigued muscles burned in protest to the torture. As they neared the end of the rescues, seventeen people had been spared a watery death. But there was still one left frantically waving his arms and tossing out bright colored clothing in the hopes that one of the men on the helicopters he'd seen passing him might see his desperate pleas for help.

Patrick continued his low flyover searching the floating piles of debris for signs of life. If there was anyone left alive in this mess, he was going to find them. He hovered over an older home just as it broke apart sending pieces of the once happy family dwelling drifting along like match sticks in a stream; except this time the match sticks were two by fours and the stream was a raging river.

"Patrick…look…eleven o'clock!"

Patrick lifted his gaze in the direction Roy had indicated and his breath caught in his throat. There was a man stuffing clothing out of his second story window. A mountain of debris had effectively imprisoned the man inside his home as it continued to pile up around the entrance of his apartment. The second floor walkway lined with a railing and support posts had acted as a hand with fingers and gripped the passing debris into a tighter and tighter grasp.

Chet and Roy discussed the best means of rescuing the man. The only exit they could see was the window from which he was leaning out. They both knew it would be risky but they saw no other way. Chet was lighter than Roy so the decision was an easy one. Once Patrick reached the roof of the building, Chet would make his way from the roof down to the floor below and carefully move along the railing until he reached the edge nearest the window. Then he'd toss a lifeline to the man and talk him through securing himself. He just hoped he could talk him into jumping into the cold raging waters when that time came.

"Careful, Chet. I've got you anchored here."

Chet looked at Roy one last time as he stepped out of the helicopter, one lifeline tied securely around his waist and the other looped loosely across his chest. He held on to anything within reach as he teetered along the railing in his bulky boots, heaving a sigh of relief when he finally reached the end post. He looked around the side of the pale yellow building in search of the window where he'd last seen the desperate man.

"Hey…can ya hear me?"

"Y-yea…I'm over here." To Chet, the man's voice sounded just as desperate as his actions had indicated.

"Are ya hurt?" Chet needed to know if the man was going to be able to secure the lifeline around him.

"I..I don't..th..think so." The stuttered reply concerned the firefighter but he pressed on knowing that time was not on their side.

"Are there others with ya?"

"No," the one word reply sounded fainter.

"Ok, here's what we're gonna do…"

Roy felt helpless inside the chopper knowing that his help was sorely needed but also knowing that this was unfortunately a one man job and right now his job was to ensure that the lifelines stayed solid and to help pull the victim to safety. He looked down at the white knuckled grip he had on the rope and released it enough for the circulation to return to his numb fingers. He watched the color slowly return and the stinging sensation it brought with it reminded him to refocus his attention to the rescue at hand.

"Sonofabitch!" Chet grumbled as he repeatedly tried to toss the lifeline to his victim, knowing the waters were rising. Each time he threw it, it landed just outside of the man's grasp and he watched in frustration as the man stretched farther and farther out the window trying to find the rope. He too knew they were running out of time. Finally, in a move that would not win him any accolades for following safety protocol, he removed his turnout coat. If he could somehow give his victim a larger target to grasp then maybe he could get the rope to him. Holding onto the pole with the crook of his arm, he looped the lifeline to his coat then laid it as close to the wall as he could. The man in the window nodded his understanding and with one final act of desperation, Chet let his turnout coat go. He watched as it drifted, miraculously staying near the wall, until it came within reach of the victim.

"YES!" He crowed when he saw the man grab onto the sleeve and pull the line free from the garment. He quickly looped it beneath his armpits just as Chet had instructed. Chet signaled to Roy that the lifeline was in place and the long awaited extrication of the victim from his home was finally underway.

Inside the chopper, Roy was slowly reeling in the lifeline of the victim, anxious to get this particular rescue over, when he felt a sudden jolt of the chopper. "What happened?" He asked knowing full well the answer Patrick was going to give him.

"Damn roof shifted."

Roy heard the unmistakable alarm in the pilot's voice. "Come on, come on," he urged through his gritted teeth then blew out his breath when he saw hands and reddish brown hair rising above the roofline. His thoughts became desperate knowing that the sooner the victim was on board the sooner Chet could climb on board and the sooner they could get off this God forsaken makeshift island.

Once the victim was on the roof top, he managed a combination of crawling and dragging himself to the waiting chopper where Roy quickly helped him inside. "You alright?"

The man could only nod affirmatively, his energy completely spent.

Roy returned his efforts to Chet's lifeline. He kept the tension tight feeling Chet inching his way back to the railing where he could climb back onto the roof. Roy felt himself shaking trying to hurry the process along when another jolt shook the chopper. This time, the line in his hand went limp lying across the roof and Roy knew the unthinkable had happened.

Patrick had to make a decision that no rescue pilot ever wants to make. He had a civilian on board and time was up. The roof was collapsing and even though Chet remained out there, he could no longer remain on the roof without risking all of their lives, including the man they'd just pulled to safety. "Shit! Roy, gotta get off this roof. We'll come back, I swear!"

Roy's blue eyes darted back and forth along the edge of the roof knowing in his head that Patrick was right but the knowledge simply couldn't penetrate his aching heart. He couldn't leave his brother, his longtime friend, out there alone to perish. "CHHEEET!" He screamed the name hearing nothing but rushing water and the creaking and groaning noises of a dying community in return and as he pulled the end of the lifeline back inside the chopper, he felt the heaviest weight he'd ever known; he feared he'd just watched his friend die.

Chet had just reached the pole when he heard and felt the creaking and groaning of the building. "Oh no,..oh hell no!" He latched onto the pole wrapping his arms and legs around it like a frightened child holds onto a parent. He felt Roy pulling on the rope, his only source of safety, when suddenly the rope went slack. He looked around at the frayed ends waving in the stream of water and realized what had happened. The repeated tugging across the debris had caused it to begin to fray then when the building shifted a large piece of sharp metal on the edge of the roof had given the death slash to his lifeline. "Aww…" Expletives spewed from his mouth as he felt the pit of his stomach draw up in knots and his breath rushing out of his lungs; above him, the chopper was lifting off, leaving him cold, aching and exhausted clinging to a small metal post in the middle of a raging river while the building continued to groan pitifully in its death throes.

Roy watched helplessly as they lifted away from his shift mate. He fought the urge to vomit as he watched Chet holding on to the pole around a crumbling building. _Hang on, Chet…we'll be back soon, I promise. Just hang on a little longer, please. _

E!E!

"You fellas see anything?"

Marco flashed a quick glance at his pilot then returned his gaze to the disaster below. They were flying just a few yards above the water searching for anything that might indicate there were more victims.

"Wait, hold it…is that…NO!" Johnny watched below him as a turnout coat came floating into view. As it neared the chopper he recognized the name on the back and gulped in horror. Even though it was tumbling in the swift water the name KELLY was clearly visible. Beside him, he heard Marco begin mumbling in Spanish and knew he'd seen the same thing. "Hey…hey, Richard, that's one of our guys…that turnout…that's one of ours!" Johnny knew that in his hyper-anxious state, his babbling probably wasn't making any sense to his pilot but he was relieved when the pilot acknowledged him.

"I see it. I'll swing up in the direction it was floating from. Let me know if you see him." Richard knew that the likelihood of finding the fireman alive was lessening with each passing second but he wasn't going to give up; not until they pulled his lifeless body from the water.

Back at the pole, Chet continued to shiver. Without his turnout coat, his upper body was no longer shielded from the cold water. His grasp was growing weaker and he could no longer feel the ends of his fingers. "Uh…guys…little he..help, please." His mind drifted back over all the pranks the Phantom had pulled over the years; especially those played on his favorite target. He remembered how upset Johnny had been with him earlier this morning when he'd blabbed to the other guys about his beach fiasco. He just wished somehow that he could apologize to Johnny. He didn't want that encounter to be how his friend remembered him. His teeth chattered as water began to slip inside his bunker pants weighing him down even more. He knew that if he had any chance of surviving long enough for Patrick and Roy to return to rescue him then he'd have to get out of the heavy pants; something he was not looking forward to doing in the cold swift water. Just as he pulled the red suspenders off his shoulders with one hand he lost his grip with the other. Daylight turned to darkness as the swift water quickly divested him of his bunkers pulling him under. As soon as his feet were free he managed to surface, gagging and spitting the putrid water he'd inhaled. He felt the sharp splinters of jagged pieces of wood piercing his body in various places while the raging water slammed him about. His arms flailed searching for anything solid to grab on to as more debris, sharp and metallic, tore at his uniform and underlying flesh. Again he was sucked under in the current and this time he swallowed large amounts of the filthy water feeling his lungs burn in search of air. Finally, he surfaced again spitting and sputtering as nausea swept over him. He didn't know if it was from the water he'd swallowed or the fear in his gut that caused it. But one thing he did know…if he got pulled under again, it would be for the last time.

Inside copter two, Johnny and Marco continued to search amid the destruction.

"There…is that…" Marco hesitated when he realized he wasn't seeing his friend but just his bunkers floating along.

"What the hell's he doin'?" Johnny couldn't imagine why Chet seemed to be stripping unless hypothermia was setting in and he was confused.

"Hey fellas, three o'clock!"

Both men turned to the right where Richard had indicated and there they saw Chet's pale face, barely above the waterline. He appeared to be clinging to a chain link fence but the water was still rising and both Marco and Johnny knew they had to reach him fast; if it wasn't already too late.

Richard surveyed their surroundings for a place to put down but found nothing suitable. "Hey, I can drop you guys off on that roof but I can't land there." He nodded his head in the direction of a small gas station a few yards from Chet's current location. "You wanna see if you can get him to the roof? At least you'll have him outta the water while I figure something out." Richard had seen a promising small car dealership with an intact roof just on the opposite side of the chain link fence. There were tree branches shading most of it from the large decades old trees planted on both sides of the business. The coverage from the limbs was too much to be able to get his skids in there but he had an idea.

After Johnny and Marco gained their footing on the small rooftop, Johnny called out to Chet to let him know they were there…and to reassure himself that the Irishman was still alive.

"Chet! Chet can ya hear me?" Johnny continued to call out while Marco secured their lines to whatever seemed sturdy enough to hold them.

"Whu…huh?" In Chet's dazed condition he thought he heard Johnny's shrieking voice.

"Chester B. Kelly, over here!"

"J-Johnny?" Chet moaned moving his head in the direction of the voice.

Johnny didn't hear Chet call his name but he definitely saw his head movement. "Marco, he's alive but he's weak. I gotta get to 'im fast."

"Lines are ready, John. I'll anchor you. Go get him." The determination on Marco's face was unmistakably clear.

Johnny's flexibility and light weight made him the perfect man for this rescue. There was a pile of floating debris that had gotten pressed up against the fence. Chet had somehow managed to climb over the fence so that the debris wasn't crushing him but it looked to Johnny like perhaps he'd gotten hung on the wire. Johnny walked as sure footedly as a cat stealthily making his way to his friend with Marco releasing his slack. Once he finally got to him, his elation was short lived. Chet was battered and bruised, reminding Johnny of what he looked like as well. He was pale and his lips were turning blue. "Chet, hang on man. I gotcha." Johnny tried to slip the lifeline over Chet's shoulders but he realized that the man's torn and bloody shirt was hung on the fence near his lower back. He climbed into the water and dove down to release the hold the fence had on his friend.

Chet felt something touching him around his waist and nearly panicked with the fear that he was going to be pulled under again. Suddenly, Johnny's wet head popped up in front of him, slinging the disgusting water from his hair reminding Chet of a dog shaking his head. "Wha…aww, heeyy, Gaggge," the wilting man slurred.

"Hang on, Pally. You got yourself caught pretty good here." Johnny sucked in another breath and disappeared beneath the waters one more time as the rising water reached Chet's ears causing him to tilt his head back so that his face was farther out of the water.

Chet felt more movement then slipped away from the fence. His strength completely diminished as he floated away. Marco saw what was happening and pulled tightly on the line only to realize Johnny hadn't yet secured it to their friend. He shouted curses in the language of his ancestors as he continued to watch Johnny and Chet struggle.

Johnny's lifeline tightened jerking him to a halt just as he grabbed Chet's waistband with his sore arm, clinging to the fence with the other. He grunted into the murky water, his aching shoulder screaming in protest of the abuse.

Chet tried to brace himself for the inevitable sinking into the foreboding swirling waters. He held his breath until the sharp pain in his groin made him cough out his scream. "Oouugnh!" He searched for something to hold onto but his flailing arms found nothing solid.

"Quit fightin' me, man. Relax..I gotcha!" Johnny's instructions were shouted through gritted teeth as he dug his fingers into Chet's waistband feeling the material stretch within his grasp, the pain in his shoulder excruciating.

Suddenly, the noise of a straining helicopter and shattering wood pulled his attention away from the pain and he looked over his left shoulder. What he saw left him mesmerized.

Marco too heard the noise. He gripped Johnny's lifeline tighter, his muscles beginning to tire from the strain. He looked over in the area of the piercing crunches and couldn't believe his eyes. Suddenly, the line he was pulling against loosened and panic tightened his chest.

"Breathe, Lopez."

Marco turned around to see Roy had been dropped off too and had made it to him, giving him a hand with the line. Another thundering noise roared overhead, and Marco and Roy looked up just as copter three whirled above them.  
Richard and Mack had been friends for a long time but even Mack had no idea just how much of a risk taker Richard actually was. The two had been in constant communication since Chet had been located and now Mack was just as stunned as the rest of Station 51. Richard was using the rotor blades on the chopper he was piloting to cut away the overhanging limbs blocking access to the roof of the car dealership. Mack hovered close enough to let Richard know when the roof top was open.

"That's it, Richard. I can set her down now."

"10-4," Richard acknowledged as copter two moved away and copter three eased into place. As soon as the skids touched down, Hank and Mike poured from the side.

They had already formulated their plan of action. The swift waters were rushing past them on the edge of the roof line and they could tell that Johnny's strength was quickly fading. Chet needed to get out of the water fast, a fact to which his contorted and pain filled face attested.

"John, if we throw you a line can you get it on him?"

Johnny was heaving gasping for air at the strain he was under. He sucked in two deep breaths before he could answer his superior. "Naw…can't…leggo." His arm was growing numb and his fingers were cramping as he gripped Chet's waistband even tighter, again feeling the stretch the rushing water was causing the material.

"Cap, I can climb across this debris and get close enough to get a line on him."

Hank didn't hesitate long. The idea of placing a third member of his crew in harm's way didn't appeal to him in the least but he knew how close his men were and there was no way he was going to stand in the way of a possible rescue…the only possible rescue. "Alright, let's get you tied off."

Moments later, with everyone in the crew counting on him, Mike gingerly crawled across the floating planks, rooftops and various other pieces of the lives of those who had lived near the Baldwin Hills Reservoir. Johnny watched carefully, his lungs and arms burning beyond what he thought he could withstand. Chet had stopped fighting him and had given up finding anything solid to hold onto. He now lay limply in the rushing water, his face a vision of physical torment.

Finally, Mike got close enough to Chet to secure a lifeline to him then signaled his Captain. Mack had gotten out of the chopper and joined Hank knowing that the captain would need some help pulling Chet's entire body weight against the raging current.

"John, he's secure…let him go."

Johnny held his breath not sure if he could do what Mike was telling him to do.

Mike saw Johnny's hesitation and encouraged him again. "Johnny, Cap's got him now. Let him go so we can get him outta this water….it's ok, Gage…just let him go."

As if hearing Mike for the first time, Johnny turned slowly to see Mike's eyes boring holes into his soul. There was no judgment or forcefulness in the engineer's firm voice. He understood what Johnny was thinking as he continued to encourage the younger man. "He'll be safe, Johnny. You did it…you kept him from drowning…now, let go."

Johnny didn't feel his fingers straightening out to release his friend but he sucked in a quick breath as he saw the curly dark hair drifting out away from him. Chet didn't go far as Hank and Mack began pulling him in to the top of the car dealership.

"Johnny, can you reach out to me? You're line's about to snap."

John looked at his lifeline and saw where it had become frayed on the wire of the fence. He wasn't sure that it would hold him long enough for Roy and Marco to pull him back in. He looked back over just as Mack and Hank pulled Chet out of the water, shredded shirt untucked, laying him on his stomach on the roof. He watched as Chet coughed and sputtered.

"See, he's ok…now it's our turn. Come on," Mike reached out and Johnny began climbing along the fence the two feet it took to reach the outstretched hand.

Roy and Marco stood slapping each other on the back as Johnny and Mike were pulled closer and closer to safety. Above them, their pilot hovered waiting for them to give him the signal they were ready to be picked up.

On the other side of the fence, Hank was pulling Johnny out of the water just as Mike held out his hand to Mack. Soon there were three wet men lying on the rooftop with two dry men checking them over.

Johnny didn't like the attention; he was much more concerned about Chet. He brushed aside Hank's hand leaning up on one elbow breathing hard from the exertion. "Kel…Kelly, you.. a'right?"

Chet grimaced shaking his head negatively. The pain in his groin and backside told him he might never be alright again.

"Wha…where ya… hurt," Johnny asked worriedly?

"Ma…my ASS…aarghugh," he began retching the contents of his stomach.

Mike had just pulled himself up to a seated position when Chet began to vomit and in true quiet Stoker fashion he stated," well…I did say I wanted to see it, Johnny."

Johnny followed Mike's gaze to the retching lineman and a crooked smile spread broadly across his features. He watched Mike reach over and lift up the light blue shirt revealing a very stretched band from a pair of white briefs; the band situated high up the heaving man's back. All four men knew where the underwear had ultimately ended up as well as what part of Chet's anatomy was being crushed in the front. "Ah..ahhaahaa…oh this is great…heehee!"

"Real…funny…Gage," Chet said between heaves then began the difficult task of removing his very stretched underwear from between his lower cheeks. His rescue had resulted in the worst wedgie of his entire life.

"Haha…need some help there, Pal?"

No way was he going to allow Johnny near his waist anytime soon and he made his point with a very sarcastic smirk on his face. He watched as Johnny's laughing face blurred, his laughter echoing into the darkness as the daydream faded away.

E!

Johnny returned to the room with his stack of copies, and a bit of knowledge he needed to share with Chet about their engineer. He watched Chet's face contort in a grimace as he stared at the empty spot on the wooden table.

"Uh..need some help there, Pal?"

"Whu…ah, don't touch me, damn it." Chet looked into the stunned face of his research partner, realizing he was no longer in 1963.

Johnny jumped slightly, taken aback by the harshness of Chet's response.

"Oh, uh…geez, I'm sorry Gage. Don't know what I was thinkin'."

Johnny flashed his trademark grin. "No problem, you ready to go?"

"Yea…I think I have what we need," Chet stammered standing slowly, just to make sure the pain he'd felt earlier was only a daydream, then began replacing the reference materials back on the shelf.

"Man, Chet…you will not believe what I found out from Ryleigh. Stoker's been holdin' out on us."

Normally, Chet would have been annoyed by Johnny's nonstop talking but not today. The two friends walked out of the library with Johnny continuing to share the information he'd garnered from Ryleigh about her crush on their engineer; Chet on the other hand, walked to the familiar white rover with a feeling of gratitude for his sometimes annoying friend…and a determination to see this project through to its ultimate fulfillment.

E!

A/N:

1. 'Surf City', 1963, Jan & Dean, written by Brian Wilson/Jan Berry.

2. From the Historical Archives of the Los Angeles Fire Department:

On the afternoon of December 14th, 1963, with swift suddenness, improbable tragedy struck the Baldwin Hills section of Los Angeles. Lost homes, ruined property and even death flooded downward on a broad river of rushing water from the broken dam at the head of Cloverdale Road. Automobiles, fragments of houses, and chunks of concrete were rolled and jammed like logs down the flume of the flood's path to the bottom and deposited in incongruous heaps on the ruins of Village Green, which minutes before had been a quiet Saturday-relaxed apartment community.

In the rushing disaster unwary residents were trapped. On roofs, in second floor rooms, on small insecure islands of debris, they signaled desperately for help.

And help was swift to come. Distinguished among the rescuers were Fire Department members who reported to the scene. Their training, courage and knowledge of how to act in emergency situations made their help more significant than that of any other agency.

Unique in the rescue effort was the work of the three helicopter pilots dispatched to the scene, Fireman Theodore M. "Bud" Nelson, Crash 90-C, Fireman Ross H. Reynolds, Crash 90-B and Fireman Howard L. Payne, Crash 90-C.

"Eighteen persons were rescued and flown out to a safe location . . . at least six of these, and quite possibly more, could not have been rescued in any other way an would have been lost except for the fire dep't. helicopter.

Most dramatic of all is the report of Fireman Bud Nelson. In a few short paragraphs the rescue drama unfolds. Bud had sighted people in distress, and returned from a mission to rescue them: "When I arrived over the garage," his report states, "the part where I originally thought I might be able to land had collapsed and was under water . . . The part of the garage that still looked strong enough to land on had trees on the North and East sides and the limbs hung over the garage just enough so that there was not enough room for the rotor blades to clear. I decided to gamble a little as the water was still getting deeper (about 8 or 9 feet deep by now). I hovered in very slowly from the Southwest corner of the garage with my skids about 1 to 2 feet above the roof and started to clip the smaller lower branches from the trees with the rotor blades. I was finally able to move in far enough to get a solid place for the skids . . .

There is more-much more-that tells of resourcefulness and devotion to the saving of lives. To sum up, Chief Nelson's report says it best.

"May I call to your attention," he says, "that these rescues involved not only the flying hazards but, in many cases, the problem of rescuing the victims from the water before getting them to the helicopter. Our men, with ropes tied to them, actually allowed themselves to be swept out by the swift current to a position for rescue of victims. I do not differentiate between the men on specific rescues because each man risked his life several times during the day . . .

"It is my opinion that these men-Reynolds, Nelson, and Payne-not only proved beyond doubt the value and efficiency of our helicopter program and the training that has gone into it, but that they displayed a dedication to their profession and a courage that was beyond the normal call of duty. They each placed their lives on the line time and time again, without regard to their own safety to save the lives of citizens of this city, and were successful in so doing."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Mike yawned as he got out of his vehicle and walked slowly towards the rear entrance of the station, noting the empty space beside the engine. His days off had been spent painting his kitchen but his nights had been spent reliving the horrific nightmare that had interrupted the sleep of the entire station during their last shift. Waking up drenched in sweat, staring into the sleepy eyes of his concerned crew mates as they gathered around his bunk was not a scene he ever wanted to repeat. And although he never wished harm on the citizens of L.A. County, he certainly wouldn't mind a busy shift – especially if it kept him awake most of the night. He quickly dismissed the thought; ashamed that a firefighter could even allow such an aberrant idea to cross his mind. He pushed open the door to the kitchen hoping that tonight would be the night he finally escaped the dark dream world which seemed to be holding him captive.

"Morning," he said with a pasted on smile as he greeted Colton, the engineer from 'C' shift.

"Ah, good morning, Mike." The older man folded up the paper to begin his debriefing of the previous shift with his replacement.

"Not much action for our girl on my watch," Colton began with a chuckle turning slightly to his left expecting to hear agreement from the new boot on his shift. Andrew sat mesmerized by the television set while Henry merely rolled his dark brown bloodshot eyes from the young man sitting beside him to Colton and then back to Andrew. Colton shook his head slightly with a smirk then returned his attention to his relief engineer.

Mike gave him a slight nod and raised his coffee cup in salute. "Well, that's good to hear." He poured the last of the coffee into the brown mug then began preparing the next pot. No way was he going to allow the coffee pot to be empty when the rest of his crew began arriving.

"Yea, we got a couple of accidents on the 405 and then got called out on a second alarm assignment in the warehouse district." He shifted in his chair as he watched Mike scoop out the coffee, deeply inhaling the aroma of the freshly opened package. "Overhaul took us a while on that one but we got back in around 0230 and the rest of the night was quiet. Squad's been busy but Big Red really had an easy shift."

Mike pulled a chair out at the table. His shift hadn't officially started but his intermittent sleep pattern had him already feeling tired. He sipped his coffee eager for the caffeine to jump start his fatigued brain cells.

"Say, do ya mind if I head out a little early? I've got a lot of 'honey-dos' waiting on me at home."

"No, that's fine; go ahead," Mike said looking down at his watch. His shift would begin in less than half an hour anyway. "Besides, I'd rather be here with our girl," he tossed his sandy blond head in the direction of the apparatus bay, "than working on that list of yours." Mike's grin was contagious as he reached for the morning paper.

"Yea," the exiting engineer agreed rising from the table, toothy smile matching that of the one now displayed on his replacement's face. "Me too; thanks a lot, Mike," he said hurrying to the locker room to change his clothes.

Hank walked through the door on the backswing, his shift debriefing with Captain Sullivan completed. "He's in a hurry to get home," he said pointing his thumb back over his left shoulder.

Mike looked up from his perusal of the sports section of the paper. "Yea, his wife's got some work for him to do around the house. He said they had a quiet night so I agreed to take over so he could get a head start."

Hank removed a coffee cup from the dish drain and stood patiently waiting for the brew to finish percolating. "Well, the engine might've had an easy shift but not the squad." He stared at the cup dangling from his finger by the handle then began to twirl it. "They're out on their fifteenth run of the shift now."

Mike released a low whistle then folded up the paper. He lifted his chin up just enough to see that the new boot on 'C' shift was engrossed with the cartoon 'Rocky & Bullwinkle' while mindlessly scratching Henry behind his ears. The volume was up enough that the young man wouldn't be able to hear the conversation taking place in rather hushed tones at the kitchen table. Mike took another sip of his coffee before he continued his thought. "So, I guess adding paramedics was another great advancement for the fire service, right?"

Hank knew the question was a rhetorical one but he answered it anyway. "Absolutely," he said with a smile noticing the coffee was ready. He began filling his cup as he continued in a slightly lowered voice. "Which one would represent us better for our project before the brass, Roy or Johnny?" He stepped to Mike's side and poured him a warmer while the younger man contemplated the question.

Mike rubbed his chin briefly. "Well, Roy was in the first class over at Harbor General. I think it should rightfully be him." He lifted his cup to his lips watching his mentor give a slight nod of agreement. Mike sat in silence for a moment, suspiciously eyeing the other man. "You really gonna do it, Cap?"

Hank knew exactly what Mike meant by his vague question but instead of answering, he tentatively sipped his black coffee then leaned back in his seat. "Wonder what Chet and Johnny came up with on their time off?"

Mike snickered at Hank's less than subtle avoidance of the inquiry. One thing he knew as surely as he knew his own name; Captain Hank Stanley was an honorable man deserving of the utmost respect who ALWAYS kept his word. If their project gained the approval and support of Headquarters then Station 51's A-shift would finally have resolution to the mystery that had been plaguing them since their second Captain's arrival; why did he burn McConikee's hat? He stared down into the murky depths of the black coffee; the dark remnants of his first morning cup reminding him of the irony of stirring sugar into the hot bitter drink. Hank liked his coffee black but Mike preferred to add a teaspoon of sugar to his. The two cups might look the same; both inviting to the eyes and nose but one was bitter while the other was pleasantly sweet and much preferred by Mike's discerning palate. The color of the coffee fueled his sordid train of thought and the image of a certain smiling dark haired beauty came to life in his mind's eye but this time a different set of adjectives accompanied the thought. Words that were just as bitter as Captain Stanley's coffee kneaded his heart erasing the soft sweet smile that had his face slightly glowing only seconds earlier. He rubbed his forehead willing the image of Ryleigh to fade before he looked away to answer his superior's question. "Don't know…guess we'll find out soon enough."

"Morning," Roy said as he waltzed through the kitchen door, Marco only a few steps behind him.

"Morning, Roy…Marco," Hank offered, eyes peeking from behind the rim of his cup.

Hearing the lineman's name called out sent a jolt through the new boot, pulling him out of his mesmerized state. "Hey, Marco," Andrew called out as he stood up from his spot beside the Bassett Hound, stretching his arms up over his head. "Is Chet here yet?"

"Yes, he was just putting his boots on when I wal…"

"Hey morning fellas," Chet interrupted as he briskly walked through the kitchen door with a mischievous grin, happy to have arrived before Johnny.

"Great, I'm outta here. Safe shift," Andrew announced being the last man from the C- shift engine crew to be relieved from duty.

Hank watched as the evil grin spread beneath Chet's bushy mustache. His head began to ache from fighting the urge to go ahead and assign the Irishman latrine duty for whatever prank the Phantom was plotting. He held his breath as he waited for the string of curses he knew would soon spew forth from the locker room when his junior paramedic got drenched with yet another water bomb or met with some similar fate.

"Mornin', mornin', mornin'," Johnny said rushing through the doorway energetically, half smile firmly planted beneath his sparkling brown eyes.

Hank felt his eyebrows rise in disbelief. Johnny was obviously happy…and dry. He wondered briefly how his paramedic had managed to evade the Phantom but then he noticed something even more troublesome. Johnny's peppy smile had morphed into a grin just as mischievous as Chet's and the look that passed between the two men was unmistakable. Hank set his coffee cup down with more force than he intended then rising, planted both hands on his narrow hips. "Alright…that's it. What are you two twits up to now?"

Johnny spun around, hand splayed across his chest. He cast a confused look from Hank to Chet who was obviously ignoring his captain's remark. He opened his mouth to reply but his words remained unspoken as Hank cut him off.

"Spill it, you two."

"Yea, Gage…what're you and DeSoto up to?" Chet was silently proud of himself for maintaining his poker face even though he knew he was the other half of the duo to which Hank was referring.

"Me? Cap isn't talking to me," Roy quickly spat out looking aggravatingly at the curly haired lineman standing behind Mike.

"Kelly…Gage," Hank began raising one finger in the air to emphasize his authority. "I've seen that look on your faces before and nothing good ever comes of it." His index finger pointed back and forth between the two men. "Whatever you're up to…drop it…now. I don't want any surprises from either of you on this shift. Got it?"

"But Cap…we're not up to anything." Chet took a seat next to Mike who was trying his best to tune out the butt chewing he knew was about to be unleashed by his Captain onto the two men in question. Chet winked at Johnny then reached out to lay his arm across Mike's shoulders.

Johnny picked up on Chet's plan, immediately amplifying his smile and took the vacant seat on the other side of Mike, leaning his forearm on the engineer's shoulder. "Yea, Cap…'s not us this time." He turned his eyes toward the side of Mike's head, positioning his face close enough that a slight turn of Mike's head to the right would almost land a kiss smack on Johnny's lopsided grin. "It's Stoker here…he's the one who's full o' surprises."

Mike began to feel claustrophobic with the two men crowding his personal space, feeling both sets of eyes staring at him. He jerked his chin up in the direction of his captain, noting the older man was just as confused as he was at the moment. Mike turned first to Chet and then to Johnny, resisting the urge to stand up and sling both men to the floor in a manner reminiscent of the Marvel Comic Book character, The Hulk. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he waited for whatever prank he was the target of to finally be revealed. When nothing happened, he placed both hands palms down on the table and inhaled deeply. Then in a move that was very uncharacteristic of him, he raised his voice, "why the hell are you two grinning fools looking at me like that?"

"How's he do it, Johnny?" Chet stood staring at their engineer, narrowing his eyes as if trying to decipher a complex mathematical equation.

"I don't know…if I was datin' a chick like Ryleigh, I'd be braggin' about it." Johnny knew that calling her name would certainly illicit some kind of reaction out of their normally quiet friend.

Mike gulped, his mouth suddenly gone dry. His mind raced through a thousand scenarios until he remembered that the two of them had been doing research when they worked off their last shift. But how did they know that he and Ryleigh had gone out…unless, she had been working when they went in and somehow had made the connection between the three of them working at 51's. He quickly calculated the days backwards and realized that indeed she would have been working an afternoon shift that day. Suddenly, anger tinted with a bit of paranoia began to rumble from somewhere deep within his soul. _What exactly had she told his friends about him? _

Johnny noticed Mike's breathing increasing and his nostrils flaring. Chet sat oblivious to the signs Mike was exhibiting of his impending eruption.

Mike pursed his lips into a thin line. "So, you talked to Ryleigh, huh?" He looked from side to side and saw the smirks on his two crew mates faces. "Well," he squared his shoulders, pulling himself into a fully upright position. "Did she happen to mention that she had a boyfriend?"

Johnny and Chet both misunderstood his comment while the other three men watched the scene unfold before them. Johnny gave Chet a knowing wink, both men assuming that Mike was referring to himself.

"Relax, Pally," Johnny chortled. "I mean, I'd've been tryin' to get her number but she's obviously got her sights set on you."

"Yea, Stoker. Gage and I, we might kiss and tell but hey," Chet flicked his hand back and forth between himself and Johnny, "we ain't gonna try to steal your girl, man."

If fury were dynamite then Chet's comment ignited a very short fuse attached to their engineer. "She's NOT my girlfriend, alright? She already has a boyfriend…one she just happened to forget to mention while she was jotting down her phone number for me!" Mike stormed out the door headed for the dorm but stopped in the empty spot where the squad normally was parked. He remembered they hadn't had roll call yet and just stood there alone waiting for the others to join him in their usual morning routine. He crossed his arms over his chest protectively making sure to keep his back to the kitchen door. He needed to restore his composure before the rest of the crew saw him. He gritted his teeth, alternately clenching and releasing his jaw muscles. Finally, he took a deep cleansing breath just as Hank's voice boomed from the other side of the door.

"Roll call, men." Hank's stern low pitched voice matched his serious eyes. "And whatever the hell that was it better not ever happen again."

"Yessir," Johnny offered in an apologetic whisper.

"Sure, Cap….sorry," Chet mumbled looking down at the tile floor, unsure himself of what had just transpired but wishing he and Johnny had never instigated it.

A few minutes later, Hank paced up and down the row of men reading a memo about upcoming retirements and then assigning chores. "Roy, you and Johnny will need to check your supplies as soon as the squad gets back in. They're out on their fifteenth run of the shift so their supplies are probably running low." He looked up and noted that both men nodded an acknowledgement though neither uttered a word. He then assigned Johnny and Chet latrine duty and even though he didn't say it, everyone knew that it was because of what they had done to set off the normally reserved Mike Stoker.

"Any questions?" He looked up and down the row; never had his men been so quiet and the silence was unnerving. His thoughts bounced briefly back in time to a morning very similar to this one except he was the engineer instead of Mike…and 24 hours later his Captain's hat lay smoldering in an alley behind a bar. He double blinked his eyes to bring them back into focus in the present and his gaze hesitated momentarily on Mike who was avoiding eye contact. The A-shift Captain was somewhat relieved to see the anger in the face of his second in command fading from red to a slight rosy tint. "Alright, dismissed."

"Uh, Cap?"

"Yea, Stoker?"

Mike gulped looking around him. "Hold up, guys." He hung his head, shame weighing heavily on his handsome features. He watched as his crew stopped their retreat and turned to face him. "I want to apologize for my outburst earlier." He looked into the eyes of his superior as he continued. "It was uncalled for so, uh…I think I should take latrine duty and let Chet and Johnny have the dorm. It wasn't their fault."

Chet was the first to speak. "Hey, Stoker…we'd've never said anything if we'd known it was such a sore subject."

"He's right. I mean, Ryleigh just went on and on about how much she enjoyed your lunch together and even asked me to tell you hello." Johnny was more confused than ever. "She, uh, she never mentioned a boyfriend."

Mike cleared his throat then looked down at his highly polished boots. "Well, she never mentioned him to me either but when I called her number some very pissed off fellow answered the phone."

Marco winced as he listened to Mike's statement. While Chet and Johnny often bragged about their latest female encounters, he and Mike kept their personal lives to themselves. For Mike to say the things he was saying now, and to the audience now gathered around him, took a tremendous amount of courage and Marco knew he'd obviously been deeply insulted by this woman.

"Maybe you dialed the wrong number."

Mike's eyes rolled annoyingly in the direction of the dark haired paramedic. "She wrote it down for me, Johnny. You think she forgot her own number?"

Johnny frowned, his expressive face unable to hide his embarrassment. "Well, she prob'ly never calls herself," he released a slightly forced laugh then realizing no one else joined in, he continued, "no…uh…I just…I don't know, she seemed..." His voice faded with the realization that no matter what he said, he couldn't make the situation any better.

Hank stood back listening to the exchange yet seeing slightly different faces. He too had felt compelled to apologize for his actions on that long ago night…and it was the hardest apology and confession he'd ever had to make. Yet, in the long run it had been one of the best decisions he'd ever made. And he'd gained the knowledge and wisdom necessary to attain the rank of captain. He thought back to Mike's earlier question, the one he had refused to answer. Yes, if everything played out the way he hoped it would then he'd gladly share the details of that night with his men. Eventually, his embarrassment would allow him to pass on the wisdom they would all need as they too progressed through the ranks of the department. Mike's voice brought him back to the present day a second time.

Mike decided to change the topic of the conversation and get the heat off himself. "So, did you guys come up with anything while you were there?"

Chet jumped in at that point and began giving a very animated rendition of the article he'd read about the Baldwin Hills Reservoir collapse in 1963.

Before he'd gotten very far into his story, the squad returned forcing the group to move toward the back of the bay. Hank took the opportunity to offer his own suggestion knowing his men would take it as an order. He didn't want the paramedics from C- shift to overhear the details of their project.

"Ok, why don't you hold that thought, Kelly, until this afternoon and perhaps we'll have a quiet shift and we can discuss the entire project over dinner? We've only got a week before we've gotta present it."

Chet rubbed his mustache with his thumb on one side and fingers along the other. The additional time would allow him to embellish an already exciting story. "Sounds good, Cap, 'cause I promise you, I won't be able to forget that story no matter how hard I try." He turned away heading toward the dorms following Johnny…the memory conjuring up a slight ache in his backside.

Two exhausted paramedics pulled themselves slowly out of the squad and shuffled toward the locker room. Bert Dwyer stopped long enough to toss a statement in Roy's direction.

"She's restocked and all yours, man."

Roy nodded his appreciation as he watched both men retrieve their bags from their lockers and make their way to their cars; neither one having the energy to shower before heading out. He shook his head in remembrance of when he and Johnny had eighteen runs on a single shift, then pocketed his hands and walked over to the squad. Morning calibrations had to be completed before they got a call. Afterwards, he needed to take a quick inventory of available groceries. He'd been assigned kitchen duty and he hoped he and Johnny would be able to shop for groceries while they were out after a morning run.

E!

She pulled her car into her usual parking place behind the library grabbing the bottle of grape juice as she raced to open up on time. "Oh, why'd I have to answer the phone last night," she complained out loud to the empty employee parking lot. She fumbled with her keys, dropping them as she rounded the front of her car on her way to the back door. In her hurry to pick them up, she forgot about the loose cap on her juice bottle and poured half of it out as she bent over. "Damn it! Can this day get any worse?"

Once she finally made it inside and stowed away her purse, she began to feel guilty. Melinda was a single parent trying to raise her son with no support from her family. She'd called Ryleigh just after ten the previous night begging her to cover the Saturday morning shift. Ryleigh recalled how pitiful and exhausted the other woman had sounded as she recounted her day of cleaning up after her son Austin who had stomach flu. "Ok, so a little spilled juice and not sleeping in on a Saturday isn't as bad as a toddler vomiting all over the place." She knew that no matter what happened her day wouldn't be nearly as bad as the night her friend must have spent with her young son.

She walked around opening up the blinds, allowing the morning light to wake up the dim interior, eventually making her way toward the front door. Finally, she flipped the 'OPEN' sign around and unlocked the door as a familiar silver sedan pulled into the parking spot closest to the steps. Ryleigh smiled briefly before turning around and heading back to the circulation desk. She disregarded the sign warning of 'no food or drink allowed' and twisted the cap off of what was left of her grape juice. Saturday mornings were normally quiet and she felt a certain peace knowing that she'd have time to really sit and talk with Mr. Huggins today.

Ryleigh tipped the clear bottle up swallowing the last of the juice then discarded the empty bottle in the small waste basket near the back door. She noticed the fingerprint smudges on the glass panes in the white wooden back door and decided to clean both doors to pass the time. She dug around in the janitor's closet until she found the cleaner she was looking for and a roll of paper towels. She made quick work of her task and then walked the distance along the creaking floorboards to do the same thing with the front door, fully expecting Mr. Huggins to be walking through it before she made it there herself. When he wasn't, she looked out then felt her heart skip a beat.

"Mr. Huggins!" Panic gripped her soul tightening around her chest and roaring in her ears when she saw the faithful library patron slumped over his steering wheel. She jerked open the door, barely hearing the jingle of the bell as she threw the door open with enough force to slam it against the interior wall; rattling an antique vase on a shelf nearly toppling it to the floor. Her shaky legs gave way when she tried to hurry down the marble steps in her effort to reach him and she found herself ungracefully sprawled out on the asphalt. She pulled herself up, ignoring the burning in her knees, chin, and heels of her hands.

"Mr. Huggins!" She repeated, pulling on the door handle only to realize that it was locked. "No! Please, don't be….NO!" She slammed her open hands repeatedly against the window in an attempt to awaken the man she hoped was only sleeping…yet, knowing that was not the situation.

Tears burned her eyes and stung her cheeks as she spun around in a circle searching for someone…anyone, to help her. But on this particular Saturday morning, there was no one around, not even a person walking a dog or out for a morning jog.

Struggling to get her feet moving in the right direction feeling as if she were running a marathon in a swimming pool, and forcing herself to suppress her rapid respirations, she finally got to the top of the steps. Gasping for air, she pushed through the front door, leaving a streak of blood smeared across the glass she'd been about to clean. Her world tilted and floated around her in slow motion, dark spots drifting through her tear-blurred field of vision as wave after wave of hot nausea assaulted her.

"Wh..where is it?" Her eyes darted quickly around the desk top near the phone. Books and magazines fell to the floor as she frantically searched for the emergency numbers she knew were posted there. "No, uh, oh please, please be here." She whimpered in frustration as she continued to frantically clear the desk, not caring how much damage she inflicted on the innocent periodicals unfortunate enough to have been left in her way. Finally, the white cardstock paper with the emergency numbers written in red ink somehow found its way into her clammy blood covered hand. With weak and shaky fingers, she dialed the number for the Los Angeles County Fire Service, repeatedly whispering the same string of words into the silence of the library.

"Please hurry…ohmygod, please hurry."

E!

Morning chores were interrupted by the klaxons snatching the men of Station 51 from their previous somber mood and into professional mode.

"_Station 51, man down, trapped in a motor vehicle at the Public Library, 17906 Avalon Blvd, that's 1-7-9-0-6 Avalon Blvd, cross street East Victoria, time out 0837."_

Mike pulled on his turnout coat and climbed into the driver's seat. His body was running on autopilot while his mind drifted to the location of their response. He watched Roy pull the squad beneath the rising bay door and shifted the engine into gear, following close behind the smaller red vehicle. Verifying the traffic on 223rd Street was continuing to yield, he pulled out onto the street silently grateful that this rescue wouldn't create an uncomfortable situation as Ryleigh didn't work on Saturdays.

"Right turn at the next intersection, Roy," Johnny motioned with his right hand; he didn't need to consult a map for this location. "This is where Chet and I came after last shift."

"Wonder what happened?"

Johnny was about to respond when he noticed a familiar but frantic face. "Uh-oh."

Behind the squad, Mike stopped the engine and immediately felt his jaw muscles clench tightly. The woman pounding on the window of the driver's side door of a silver sedan was Ryleigh Abrams. "Aww, hell," he mumbled low enough that his captain didn't hear him.

"Hurry, please," Ryleigh screamed as she continued to pound on the window calling out the occupant's name. "The doors are locked." She never looked up at the arriving rescuers, hoping to see some movement from within the vehicle.

Both paramedic's noticed the blood on the side of the window and realized that the young woman was injured. Roy tried to pull her aside both to do a quick assessment as well as to get her out of Johnny's way as he and Chet tried to gain entry into the vehicle.

"Miss, um…step back and let me have a look at you ok?" Roy was gently tugging on her left arm quickly noting the bloody knees, hands and neck.

"It's HIM, help HIM…please," her voice cracked as she pleaded with the paramedic.

"My partner's helping him. Now let's go sit over here and let me check you out," he suggested leading her over to the steps of the library.

Johnny pulled on the doors confirming what Ryleigh had already told him. "Hey Cap, gonna need a pry bar," he said watching Chet jog past their Captain to retrieve the biophone and drug box.

"Mike," Roy called out to their engineer. "Will you get me the first aid kit off the engine, please?" He realized that his patient's injuries were minor and only needed cleaning and bandaging.

Mike waved his acknowledgement and reached inside the compartment housing the small red box.

Marco had heard Johnny's request and returned to the driver's side of the car passing the pry bar to the paramedic. Moments later, a loud popping noise indicated that Johnny had breached the lock. He dropped the tool as Chet pulled the door open allowing Johnny to reach in carefully leaning his victim back against the seat. Skilled hands and eyes rapidly assessed the situation as dire. Two fingers searched for a carotid pulse and finding none, he turned around and yelled for his partner.

"Hey Roy, full arrest!"

Chet reached in and helped Johnny remove the elderly man and laid him on the asphalt beside his car. Roy felt the surge of adrenaline flood his system just as Mike arrived with the first aid kit.

"NO!" Ryleigh had no medical training but she knew what Johnny's proclamation had meant. Mr. Huggins wasn't breathing and his heart wasn't beating. She tried to rush to him but strong hands gently held her down. Mike was much too professional to allow his personal feelings to interfere with a rescue.

"I'll take care of her, Roy," Mike said just as the ambulance and law enforcement arrived on the scene. He sat down on the step beside her and felt a mixture of conflicting emotions. Somehow, he managed to keep them below the surface and maintained a professional façade. "Let'em do their job, Ryleigh. He's in the hands of the best L.A. County has to offer."

Tears spilled out of watery eyes as she sat staring at the place where the action was occurring and only the faintest nod was discernible to the engineer. In spite of what had happened between them, his heart ached for what she was witnessing. He opened up the first aid kit and began cleaning her wounds.

Ryleigh felt the sting of the antiseptic wipe and hissed between clenched teeth. She tried to swallow as his gentle touch sent shivers down her spine. She couldn't make eye contact with him even though she knew that turning to face him would make it easier for him to bandage her injuries. "It's him…Mr. Huggins…remember him?"

Mike pursed his lips at the sound of her shaky voice. He recognized the name as being the elderly man who'd come into the library that rainy day. He remembered how Ryleigh had treated him knowing that he was a bit special to her. Normally, being quiet was comfortable for him but right here, right now, he wished he had some words of support for her. He continued his ministrations, reaching for her bloody hands. He felt the chill of her skin as he turned her wrists revealing the scrapes on the palm sides.

"Hold them right there," he instructed her as he tore open another antiseptic swab. Just as he touched her broken skin with the stinging pad he heard Johnny raise his voice.

"Clear!"

Ryleigh jumped releasing a yelp that left Mike wondering if it was from the pain she was feeling or the horrific jolt that Roy had just sent through their victim's heart. "Easy, ok?" He held onto her wrists tightly effectively grounding her. Sensing her moving, turning her head in his direction, he couldn't help himself and finally looked into the saddest face he'd seen in a very long time.

"No conversion," Roy said as Marco continued to ventilate their patient. He watched Johnny, biophone receiver resting on his left shoulder, begin the count again.

"1-2-3-4, clear!"

Marco and Johnny leaned back as Roy used the paddles to make contact with the frail man's chest, pressing the buttons that sent the life-restoring electricity to shock his heart.

Roy stared at the data scope momentarily. "Nothing," he said tossing the paddles aside and resuming chest compressions. He cringed as he heard and felt a couple of ribs break as he forced the circulation of blood through the dying man's body.

Ryleigh watched in horror as Johnny relayed the situation to Rampart then dug into the drug box while Roy continued pressing on Mr. Huggins' chest. She could feel Mike wrapping bandages around her hands and somehow felt both pain and numbness. "It's…it's my fault," she sniffled, quickly turning into Mike's shoulder when she saw a very large needle about to be plunged into Mr. Huggins' chest.

"These things happen, Ryleigh. It's not your fault," Mike consoled as he moved his attention to cleaning the deep abrasions on her knees. "You called for help and we're here." He hesitated, wanting to say that everything was going to be alright but knowing that the likelihood of this being a successful rescue was diminishing with every passing minute.

"Excuse me, Miss."

Mike and Ryleigh both looked up at the sound of Vince Howard's voice.

"I know this is difficult but, uh…I really need to get a statement from you." Vince hated doing this part of his job when the respondent was injured and upset but it had to be done. He pulled out his clipboard with the report form already attached.

Mike began unrolling the gauze using it to secure the antibiotic gel covered pad to her open wound. He heard her voice crack again as she tried to answer the officer's first question and decided to give Officer Howard the information he knew would be needed. "Her name's Ryleigh Abrams. She's an employee here at the library. I don't know her address but her phone number is 555-2647."

Ryleigh watched as Mr. Huggins' was loaded onto the gurney with Roy continuing the brutal chest compressions. She noted the sweat forming a dark blue streak down his back while a couple of the other men loaded the ambulance with orange and black boxes. As soon as he was loaded she heard the man she knew as Johnny yell 'switch' and watched what appeared to be a well-choreographed routine as the two paramedics changed places. Johnny began compressions, Roy began forced ventilations freeing up Marco to remove himself from the back of the ambulance. Hank slammed the doors shut just as a number echoed in her ears. She looked over at Mike and Vince as it dawned on her that the number she heard was incorrect.

"Wha…uh, huh?"

"I was just giving Vince your phone number," Mike stated flatly as he began cleaning up the medical debris and returning the remaining supplies to the small red box.

"But…that's not….um, it's 555-2697," she stammered still dazed from the morning's events.

Mike felt the color drain from his face and an invisible heat wave wash up from his chest to his neck. Johnny had been right earlier; he had dialed the wrong number. He felt his heart pounding in his throat with the realization that the orange juice he'd spilled on the small slip of paper had smudged the ink just enough to make the nine look like a four.

"Ok, 555-2697, I've got it," Vince wrote down the number without seeing the look on Mike's face. "Now, can you tell me exactly what happened here Miss Abrams?"

Mike looked at her again feeling sympathy for what she was about to do – relive this disastrous morning with a total stranger. Then, realizing that while Vince was a stranger, Mike wasn't and he reached his arm around her quaking shoulders in a show of support. "It's ok, Ryleigh. Just take a deep breath and take your time."

Vince made notes on the report form as Ryleigh spoke. Several times, she had to wipe her eyes and steady her breathing before she could continue. Mike supported her the entire time, unaware that his Captain was watching his every move. Finally, with the information relayed and Vince having walked away from them, Mike turned to her and spoke.

"Listen, I…I don't know what to…to say. I'm just…well, I'm really sorry."

"He's gonna die isn't he?" She didn't look at Mike but she didn't pull out of his embrace either.

Mike squeezed her shoulder gently. "I'm not sure, Ryleigh but he's got the best folks in the business working on him right now." He saw her softly nodding and lowering her head. "Um, is there anyone I can call for you? You're in no condition to work today."

She tried to smile but failed. "No, Melinda's got a sick kid and Ms. McMillian is on vacation. There're a couple of other folks but I really don't want to go home. Don't want to be by myself right now," she gave a slight sigh then looked down at her bandaged hands and wrists. "I'll just stay on. We close at noon anyway."

Mike felt like he'd been kicked in the teeth. He had been dialing the wrong number that afternoon and she had just confirmed she lived alone. He sucked in a steadying breath. "Um, is it ok if I call you later to check on you?"

Ryleigh sniffed, wiping away her tears knowing she was smearing her make-up in the process. She didn't want his pity. "That's ok, Mike. I appreciate it but…you don't have to call me." Embarrassment flooded her then giving her the push she needed to continue. "I, uh…I want to apologize for my behavior the last time you were here. I don…"

"Apologize for what? I made a big mistake, Ryleigh." He blew out his breath and forged ahead while he still could. "When you gave me your phone number, I spilled juice on it and it got smudged. I really thought the nine was a four and," he swallowed. "And I really pissed off some guy I ended up calling by mistake."

She couldn't stop the chuckle that bubbled up from her heart. She knew that under the circumstances it was probably inappropriate but she simply couldn't stop it. "You…you really did try to call me?"

"Yea…of course I did…I just blew it," he grumbled leaning his forearms onto his knees. He almost admitted to assuming the guy had been her boyfriend but quickly decided he'd embarrassed himself enough. "Will you let me call you later?"

Ryleigh swallowed the rest of the apology that had been perched on her lips. "I'd really appreciate that. Um, can you find out what happens with him?"

Mike knew she meant Mr. Huggins and in his heart, he both looked forward to and yet dreaded making that call later on today. "Of course. You sure you're ok?"

She nodded as he helped her stand. "I'll be waiting for that call," she said limping back to the front door of the library. She saw the drying blood on the glass of the door and knew she would need to clean it up immediately.

"And I won't let you down this time," Mike promised, waiting for her to go inside before returning to the engine. Marco had already left with the squad to pick up the paramedics at Rampart. He climbed into his seat and cranked up the engine.

Hank noted the new look on his engineer's face and turned his own face toward the window to smile. At least his crew would be back in the right frame of mind for the task that lay ahead of them. And he began to ponder how best to reveal his secret to them once this task was accomplished.

E!

By noon, the engine had been called out on a car fire. Luckily, the driver had been able to pull into a parking lot and although the vehicle was a total loss there was no damage to any other property. When Mike backed the engine into the apparatus bay, the squad was out on their third run. Roy and Johnny did have a chance to purchase the groceries needed for the chicken pot pie Roy was planning to cook for dinner.

Roy backed into the bay and he and Johnny exited, each one carrying a brown paper bag of groceries.

"Hey fellas," Chet spoke up from his spot near the television set massaging Henry's floppy ears.

Mike looked up from the book he was reading and one look at Johnny's normally expressive face gave him the answer to the question he hadn't yet asked.

"Mr. Huggins…he didn't make it did he?" The engineer's question sounded more like a statement to the others in the room.

Roy pulled the chicken and eggs out of the grocery bag, staring at them momentarily before pulling open the refrigerator door and placing them inside. "No…we couldn't get him back." He shut the door slowly finally looking over at Mike. "Brackett did everything he could but…well, it was just too little too late, ya know?"

Mike nodded his understanding then checked his watch. It was nearly one o'clock which meant Ryleigh would likely be at home. He closed the book and headed for the dorm, needing privacy for the phone call he was about to make.

He slowly dialed the number being extra careful to dial a nine instead of a four. A very tired sounding voice answered on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Ryleigh…it's Mike." He hung his head hearing how sad his own voice sounded. He heard her sniffle and knew that she already assumed the worst. "He ah…I'm sorry…they couldn't revive him."

Ryleigh screwed her eyes shut squeezing out the tears she could no longer contain. She tried to find her voice but failed with her first effort. "Ahem…I…I appreciate you…" Her voiced hitched and she was unable to complete her sentence.

Mike could envision her crying and wished he could be there to hold her. He thought back to the few minutes he'd spent with her providing first aid and then a memory forced its way through the fog. He knew he needed to contradict her errant thinking.

"Ryleigh…you did everything right. You called for help and…well, this isn't your fault." He hoped his consolation was somehow making its way through the phone lines to the down-trodden young lady on the other end. Again, he heard her sniffle.

"I uh…yea…yes, it is my fault."

"He was elderly. He died quickly, no suffering. Ryleigh, you are not to blame for his age; Mother Nature is responsible for that." His mind raced trying frantically to pull the right words out of his limited repertoire of consolation phrases.

"You don't understand, Mike," she began then inhaled a deep shuttering breath.

"Try me."

Mike spent the next twenty-five minutes alternately listening and offering his support to the crying brunette who had stolen his heart on their first meeting. And while he listened, an idea began to hatch in the back of his brain; an idea that continued to grow as the two of them talked and by the time he stepped back into the station's dayroom he was about to burst with excitement. This would be the glue that held their entire presentation together. It would solidify in the minds of the brass exactly what Station 51 A-shift was trying to demonstrate through their hard work and research. And Ryleigh had just agreed to be the catalyst to propel it into the future. Now all he had to do was convince his crew mates they could pull it off in only a few days.

E!

A/N: Thank you so much for continuing to read this story. Your kind words, support and suggestions fuel me.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Mike stared hopefully into the faces of his shift mates as they gathered around the kitchen table. Hank sat at one end with Mike at the other staring past Hank's left shoulder and out the side door of the station. He noted how late it was getting as the shadows were growing longer along the beige brick wall of the station driveway. The men had caught a break from their usual frantic pace of calls leaving them plenty of time to discuss their project around the kitchen table once they had finished cleaning and putting away the dinner dishes. Now, as he sat looking into the blank faces, he wondered if perhaps the post-dinner rush of blood to their digestive tracks had left their brains lacking for oxygen; the entire crew appeared catatonic. No one, not even Chet, had made the first comment in the moments since he presented his idea. Instead, they all seemed to be staring at nothing in the center of the clean white table top; Hank and Roy nursing cups of coffee while Johnny ran a long index finger around the rim of his empty milk glass. Marco's dark eyes stared unblinking into the nothingness of the empty table while Chet absently tugged at one corner of his mustache; his eyes squinting from the strain of looking at the same thing Marco seemed to be engrossed in at the moment.

One thing Mike Stoker was known for was patience and this evening he was oozing with it. He found himself watching his friends closely and as he stared he could almost see the wheels turning inside their brains. Then, without warning, it started. The left side of Johnny's mouth began to tug upwards slightly. Marco finally blinked then lifted up his chin, angling it towards his engineer. Roy's head began a barely noticeable bobbing up and down just before Hank clapped his hands together loudly. The noise startled Chet so badly that he banged his knees against the underside of the table.

"BRILLIANT, Stoker!"

"Owe, Cap…ya nearly scared my hair straight!"

Chet's comment brought a snorted laugh from the junior paramedic who was now hiding his mouth behind one of his hands.

"Mike, you sure Ryleigh will go along with this?"

Mike turned his face to his left, making eye contact with Roy. "I'm positive. I only asked her to share her story; you know…personal experience and all. But then she started talking about her friends who are majoring in Theatre and Art…how they had access to all kinds of costumes and props; she even said that what they didn't have they could probably make for us." Mike's blue eyes were sparkling above his bright smile; his enthusiasm would not be contained. "Besides, she thinks that she and her friends can work this into a project for extra credit," he said giving his Captain a quick wink and a grin. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had the men hooked. He also knew that if this would be academically valuable for Ryleigh then he was going to rack up a few points with the pretty brunette himself. He felt his blush creeping slowly around his collar and settling around his ears….because it would also give him another reason to spend even more time with her over the next few days.

Roy was just as excited about the plan as the other guys seemed to be but he couldn't shake the memory of how upset Ryleigh had been at the library when he'd tried to coax her away from Mr. Huggins' car so the others could extricate the elderly man. He wondered for a moment if she would be up to the task next Thursday as no doubt her emotions would still be raw. He heard the murmurings of the conversation going on around him and finally decided that perhaps the entire process would be somewhat cathartic for her; it might be her way of creating something good out of Mr. Huggins' death as a way of honoring him. With his internal struggle abated, he lifted his chin to the rest of the group.

"Ok, I'm in."

Hank's face flashed a broad smile. "Alright fellas, what about the rest of you? Speak now or forever hold your…ahh, that's not it." He rubbed his forehead, amid snickers then opened his mouth to try again. "Um, ok majority rules. Who agrees? Raise your right hand." He looked at the assembled group and counted five upraised hands, lifting his own to make the vote unanimous.

Mike felt the rush of air leave his lungs. "Alright, I'll go call her back," he said standing and heading towards the door on his way to use the dorm phone.

Back in the kitchen, the rest of the crew could hear a faint whistle following the tall sandy haired man as his steps echoed in the apparatus bay.

E!

In her apartment, Ryleigh's head was spinning with ideas. She was grateful for the opportunity to help Mike and his friends with a project so near and dear to their hearts. But she was also grateful that Mr. Huggins' death might be used to assist others in the future. She continued vacuuming her bedroom as she waited for Mike to call her back to let her know if the others had approved of the idea. Once her task was completed, she shut off the vacuum only to hear her phone ringing. She bolted down the hallway towards the kitchen not sure how many times it had already rung but certain it had to be Mike on the other end of the line.

Mike listened as the phone rang five times and doubt began to flicker inside him. What if he'd accidentally dialed the wrong number again? Quickly, he hung up the phone and began to redial being extra careful to dial the correct numerical sequence.

Ryleigh reached for the phone breathless from her cleaning and sprinting up the hallway. "Hello?" The only response she got was a click on the other end. "Grruugghhaa!" She slammed the phone back into the receiver and turned to go back to her bedroom wondering if she'd just missed Mike's call. Before she had gotten halfway down the narrow corridor, she heard the phone ring again.

Mike sat in the dorm room waiting for her voice to answer on the other end. This time, on the second ring, she picked up.

"Hello?"

"Ryleigh, it's Mike. They loved it!"

"Oh good," she said breathlessly into the receiver. "I knew they would, I mean…it's the best way to get your point across…you know?"

"You ok?" Mike couldn't hide his concern as he thought he could hear her breathing a little heavily on the other end of the line.

"Oh, yea…I was vacuuming in my bedroom and heard the phone ring. I thought it was you but when I got to it the jerk just hung up. Then just a few seconds later it rang again. Glad it was you this time because I'm tired of running up and down my hallway," she giggled.

Mike propped his head in his hand wondering if he should confess that he had been the one who'd hung up on her a minute ago. Deciding that he didn't want her to think she had a prank caller on her hands, he dove past his embarrassment and made the confession.

"Um, I'm afraid I'm the jerk."

"What do you mean?"

Mike grimaced. "When you didn't answer the phone by the fourth ring I thought maybe I had dialed '_Mr. Personality's'_ phone number again by mistake so after the fifth ring, I hung up. Then I dialed you back making sure I got the number right." He rubbed a worried hand across his forehead.

"Hahaha, oh Mike. That's too funny. Ok, I'm sorry I called you a jerk."

"And I'm sorry I called you twice," he snickered at his own joke. "Listen, we could get a run at any minute so um, can we meet tomorrow to begin making our plans?"

A blush ran up Ryleigh's neck coloring her cheeks a rosy pink. "Sure, wanna come over to my place? I can cook us some dinner and we can work on it then."

"Oh man, a home cooked meal to go along with your help on the project? You bet, just give me your address and I'll be there. What time?"

"How about five o'clock and I'm in apartment F-4 of Town and Country Apartments on East Boyle. Think you can find it?" She said leaning against her kitchen wall twisting a section of hair around her index finger.

"Ryleigh, I know this area like the back of my hand…driven by the place many times. I'll see you at five tomorrow," his voice matched the wide smile that had spread on his face.

"Excellent…oh and...uh, Mike?"

"Yea?"

"Do write my address down but um…don't spill any juice on it ok?" Her laughter was contagious and she could hear him both laughing and groaning on the other end of the line. "Good night, Mike."

"Ok, good night to you too."

In the predawn hours of Sunday morning, Station 51 got called out for a motor vehicle collision. Mike followed closely behind the squad casting a brief glance at Town and Country Apartments as they raced past with red lights flashing and sirens blaring. _Sweet dreams, Ryleigh. _

Inside apartment F-4, a young History major snuggled a little deeper into her pillow with a slight smile forming on her sleepy face as visions of a certain sandy haired engineer played out in her dream world.

E!

The following morning, Hank and Mike sat around the kitchen table sipping coffee and waiting for 'B' shift to begin arriving. Both men were enthusiastic about the project but also a little nervous.

"Think we can have it ready by the meeting Thursday?"

"We're gonna have to, Mike." Hank set his cup down then looked over at his second in command. "Well, I'm the oldest so I guess I'll present the L.A. Times Bombing since it happened first on our list. Some days I feel so old I think maybe I did travel to fires using horses when I was a boot."

Mike snickered at his Captain. "Well, following that same line of reasoning, I'll take the Frasier's Pier Fire since that was one of the first fires fought using engines."

"Makes sense to me," Hank mused. "And Chet seemed really excited about the Baldwin Hills Reservoir flood too so maybe he can present that one."

"Ok, that leaves us with," Mike began counting on his fingers, "the Wood Lumber Company Warf fire, the…"

"Haha," Hank interrupted laughing. "And we know how much John loves water rescues so maybe he should be the one to present the Warf fire since it was early in the career of fireboats." Hank's smile stayed firmly plastered on his face feeling slightly smug about his sense of humor.

"Yea, and Chet can plant a water bomb nearby so Gage can be all wet when he presents it," Mike chuckled. The two men snickered then continued.

"Ok, now let's see…we've got more events than men," Hank said, mentally calculating the events to be presented. "How about Marco presents the Griffith Park Fire. He'll be great at explaining why our training is so important since so many untrained men lost their lives there."

"I agree," Mike offered with a nod of his head. "That'll leave Roy presenting the O'Connor Electroplating Explosion." Mike couldn't stop the inappropriate laughter that erupted from his throat. "I'm sorry, Cap. I know none of this is funny it's just…well, I was thinking about Roy and Johnny on live television." Mike snorted trying to stop the laughter. "Roy gets the media event...it's funny."

"It's ironic, Mike…not sure funny is the right term," Hank said lifting his cup to his lips but taking a moment to clear his thoughts before he took a sip; he didn't want to risk getting strangled if he started laughing again. "He'll do great talking about how this event was the first captured on live television though.

"Better than Johnny would do," Mike chuckled, visions of Johnny stammering while staring into the camera like a deer caught in headlights drifting into his mind's eye.

Both men grew serious for a moment. The only disaster left to be presented was the La Tuna Canyon Brush Fire and neither man felt very comfortable with it. Hank took the lead, "Mike, I've been an engineer and now you are so we can both relate to the death of the auto fireman at the La Tuna Canyon Brush Fire but why don't we let Marco and Chet present it together? They could put a little different spin on it…like how it would affect them to see their brother in that position."

Mike's face fell as he remembered his nightmare. He knew that Hank was right about who should present that particular one. "No matter how many advancements we make in equipment or training…we still are fighting a beast that we can't always tame without casualties." Mike sat stone still, absent-mindedly running a finger along the table.

"You're right. And that point must never be forgotten either." Hank waited a beat watching his engineer for any signs that he wouldn't be up for the task. "Think we can handle this whole presentation?"

Mike's blue eyes looked deeply into the face of his superior. "Yes sir. We can do it. For all those who have paid the ultimate price and for those future victims who will be rescued once this gets up and running…we CAN do it…we MUST do it…and they have to support it."

Hank's smile of pride would not be denied. He leaned back in his chair and continued. "Alright, we've already said that Chet could present the Baldwin Hills Reservoir to emphasize the addition of helicopters to our cache of weapons to use in rescues. And of course, Roy and John will discuss the addition of paramedics which will be the perfect segue into Ryleigh's first-hand experience yesterday. It'll all lead up to why this is so important and why it must not only be approved but supported to the fullest."

"I agree," Mike said raising his cup in affirmation.

"I agree too…um, what am I agreeing to?" Chet's sleepy voice asked as he trudged through the doorway in search of something to feed his grumbling belly.

"Latrine duty…what else?" Johnny was close on his heels but surprisingly alert considering the squad had been kept out longer than the engine on the motor vehicle collision run.

"Where're Marco and Roy?"

Johnny spun around looking behind him then returned to his position facing his Captain. "They were right behind me," he said raising a confused eyebrow.

"I hope somebody's cooking breakfast," Roy suggested.

"I can take a hint," Marco laughed pulling open the refrigerator door and removing a carton of eggs.

"Alright, men…gather around. I need to hand out assignments for the project."

"Finally, something I won't get latrine duty for," Chet mumbled.

"Don't be so sure, Pally. That all depends on how you do." Hank fought hard to keep his grin in check leaving the Irishman wondering if he might possibly get assigned the dreaded chore if he made a mistake in the presentation.

"We present it on Thursday at 10:00 am which means we'll only have one more shift together to finalize everything." Hank watched as the members of his crew pulled out chairs around the table, everyone seated where they had been the previous night. The only exception was Marco who was preparing breakfast but Hank knew that his older lineman was great at multitasking; he was such a talented cook and firefighter that he could listen while he continued his meal preparations.

"Ok…here's how we'd like for this to go…"

E!

Mike drove slower than he'd ever driven before as he turned into the parking lot of Town and Country Apartments. He was a little nervous and although he didn't want to be late, he certainly didn't want to appear overanxious either. Somehow, he'd left home earlier than he'd intended and now was arriving fifteen minutes early; even though he'd made a stop for flowers on his way. He pulled into a vacant parking spot just outside the gray and white building with the bold black 'F' on it and simply sat in his vehicle. He kept the engine running to cool down his light perspiration as well as keep fresh the bouquet of daisies, tulips and various greenery all surrounding three large sunflowers. Finally, after noticing more than one curious glance from some of the residents milling about the grounds, he decided he'd better stop looking like a lurking stalker and go ahead up the flight of stairs to apartment four.

Ryleigh took a quick peek at the chicken and rice casserole baking in the oven and smiled to herself. It was absolutely perfect so she turned it off leaving the door open just a crack. She wanted it to stay warm but not continue to cook. She lifted the lid on the green beans just to make sure they were still warm and then opened the refrigerator door to remove the grape salad she'd made earlier in the day. She cast a glance at the clock realizing that he would arrive soon and decided to go brush her hair down out of the ponytail she'd had it in all day. Just as she turned the corner out of her kitchen, there was a knock at her door. Her mussed up hair completely forgotten, she bounced to the door and opened it up.

"Hi," Mike began, holding the bouquet upright near his abdomen.

"Hello," Ryleigh tried to say more but the sight of him standing there offering her the most beautiful bouquet she'd ever seen simply took her breath away.

"I, uh, hope you like yellow," Mike blushed presenting her with his offering. "I would've brought wine but I didn't know what we were going to eat so I…uh."

"These are beautiful," she said gently accepting the flowers. "Won't you come in?"

Mike followed her to the kitchen area and removed a vase from the top shelf that she couldn't quite reach. He watched how she seemed to float around the room filling the vase with water and then arranging the flowers in it. She took it to the small kitchen table and set it in the middle.

"There, that's perfect," she proclaimed. "I just love the beauty of nature."

Mike agreed but his eyes were tuned in to a different type of natural beauty. He loved the fact that she hadn't seemed to be putting on a false front for him. He'd dated plenty of women but so many had seemed more interested in how they looked or how he looked in uniform than in anything else. It was almost as if a few were disappointed when he'd arrived to pick them up wearing street clothes. But Ryleigh had never seen him in his uniform so that wasn't an issue, so far. He wasn't the kind of guy who liked women who were overly made up and here she was, very little make up on and her hair back in a ponytail. It was as if their dinner date was the most casual event ever and he absolutely loved it.

Ryleigh turned around to face him and caught him staring at her. Suddenly, her eyes enlarged and she brought both hands up to her face. "Oh my god, Mike…I'm so sorry…I'm such a mess…I mean, I haven't even taken my hair down and…"

"Sshh," he crooned. "I was just standing here thinking how beautiful you looked because you aren't all fixed up. You have such natural beauty, Ryleigh. Please don't hide it." _Oh where the hell did that come from, Stoker? Smooth move…now she thinks you're some sick psycho perverted Romeo… _His rant of self-loathing was interrupted by her blushing face.

"Aww…really?" No one had ever called her beautiful before. She wore glasses and was a bookworm who loved history; not exactly the type of girl the popular boys went out with in high school and she'd been too busy in college to worry about romance.

"Yes, really," he affirmed, feeling a warmth spread across his entire body. He reached out briefly touching her chin. "How're the injuries?"

"Sore," she admitted, looking down at the bandages she'd replaced on her hands and knees. She lightly touched the band-aid on her chin, thankful that the damage to her face hadn't left her looking like she'd gone a couple of rounds with Muhammad Ali.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Ryleigh remembered why he was here. "So, wanna eat first? It's all ready. Then we can get to work."

"You sure you're up to this?"

Her voice hesitated as she led him into the small kitchen. "Yea…it'll be good for me," she said pulling on the red and white striped oven mitts she removed from a drawer. She opened up the oven and removed the casserole; unable to hide the grimace the action caused her injured hands.

"Oh, geez…sorry," Mike felt awful for not realizing sooner that she might need a hand. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply allowing his olfactory sense to dominate momentarily. "Smells incredible. What can I do?"

"Well, my table isn't very large so we'll have to do this buffet-style. So just grab a plate and help yourself."

They enjoyed light conversation amid the tinkling sounds made by their silverware. Ryleigh smiled warmly as Mike enjoyed a second helping of her chicken and rice casserole. While he was an excellent cook, he always felt that food tasted better when someone else cooked it, as long as that someone didn't have the last name of Gage.

Mike pushed back away from the table patting his belly and puffing out his cheeks in a rush of air. "Miss Abrams that was one of the best meals I've ever eaten."

Her smile brightened her face and lit up her eyes. She tilted her head to the left looking at him slyly. "I'm glad you liked it. I've got cookies and coffee for us to snack on while we work," she said standing up and carrying their plates back into the kitchen. She giggled at the sound of Mike's pathetic gluttonous whimper.

"Mmmm, are you trying to make me fail my next physical?"

"Not at all," she said returning with a platter of oatmeal cookies and setting it down between them. "Coffee's perking so let's get started."

Three hours passed by much too quickly for either of them but by the time Mike stood up to leave, they had their plan in place. They had ideas for costumes and props needed and she had already contacted a couple of her friends who believed they could acquire the needed items. Hank was hosting a short rehearsal on Wednesday night so they could put the final touches on the presentation and she'd agreed to be there.

"Thank you so much for asking me to help with this," she said walking him to the door. "I know Mr. Huggins would be proud," she spoke softly, opening the door slowly. Truthfully, she didn't want the night to end.

"Thanks for agreeing to help us," Mike said turning around to face her as he stepped through the opening. "And I have no doubt that he'd be proud. Let's just keep our fingers crossed."

She stifled a giggle, tucking her chin down and twisting a section of hair flirtatiously. She watched Mike as he seemed to struggle with what to say or do next.

He cleared his throat, nervously. "Ahem, ah…dinner was delicious. Thank you for," he waved both hands in front of him, "for everything." He watched as she seemed to linger in the doorway and he briefly thought of asking her out or perhaps even risking a brief kiss. But, his insecurities crawled up his back and sat steadfastly on his shoulders. "Good night, Ryleigh," he ducked his head and forced a quick smile before he turned and walked away.

She closed the door, leaning her back against the cool wood then looked up at the ceiling exhaling a low sigh. She had really been hoping for a goodnight kiss but now, she was left wondering if maybe she'd done something wrong, misinterpreted his intentions. She trudged to her bathroom to brush her teeth. Even though it wasn't late, she was exhausted, having stayed awake into the early morning hours following the events at the library the day before. She flipped on the light then gasped at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes had dark circles beginning to appear matching the bruise that seemed to be leaking out from around the small bandage on her chin. Her ponytail had loosened and strands of chestnut hair hung down around her pale face. She tried to fight back the tears that threatened to spill over from her fatigued eyes but the effort was more than she could muster and so she removed her glasses and began to swipe at her stinging eyes. The last thirty-six hours had been traumatic to say the least but looking at herself the way Mike must have seen her was more than she could handle. Taking a step backwards, she sat down on the edge of her bathtub and silently sobbed.

E!

Tuesday morning had the men of Station 51 hustling before Hank had finished roll call. First the engine was toned out for a dumpster fire and before they returned the squad was dispatched to the local elementary school for a playground mishap. Fortunately, both incidents were minor; the injured trapeze artist only requiring a few stitches along his right eyebrow. Finally, Roy pulled up in front of the station and shifted into reverse to back the squad into the bay.

"Man, what is wrong with kids today?"

Roy eyed his partner suspiciously, certain that the younger man had seen his fair share of mishaps during his childhood. "You mean you never tried to hang by your knees on monkey bars and then swing to the next rung?"

"Nope," Johnny responded with absolute certainty. Before Roy could utter his objections beneath his upraised eyebrows, Johnny continued, "Didn't have any on the playground at my elementary school."

Both doors slammed hard echoing in the apparatus bay. Roy met his partner at the back of the squad. "Lucky for you, I'd say. You'd've probably broken your neck," he deadpanned.

Johnny screwed his face in mock agony pretending to remove a knife from his heart. "Aww, c'mon, Roy…that hurts."

"Not as badly as falling off the monkey bars would've," the senior man said pushing open the kitchen door.

At the sound of his medics returning, Hank looked up. "Ah, glad you're back. Johnny you're cooking and Roy, you've got dorm duty." Hank snapped his fingers in the air beside his face, "and don't forget tomorrow night at my place."

"Got it, Cap," Johnny said opening the refrigerator door for a glass of milk and to take a quick inventory of available condiments.

"Got my notes ready," Roy chimed in pouring himself a cup of coffee. He was about to offer his captain a cup when the tones bellowed out their call for the third time this morning.

"Station 51 structure fire with entrapment at…"

E!

Ryleigh awoke on Tuesday morning grateful for Spring Break. This gave her some additional time to gather up the necessary items for Thursday's presentation. She pulled out her spiral notebook where she and Mike had been making notes on the project. Today was the day she was going to make a sweep to all her friend's apartments to collect the items she and Mike had decided to use. She thought of Chet wearing a headset, giggling at the mental image of his curly hair sticking out around the piece of equipment attached to his head. He would also have a very large model helicopter to complete the story. Next she noted the need for a pair of worn looking leather boots and a replica of a Nott horse-drawn steam engine one of her friends had put together from pieces he'd found at a junkyard. From what she had been told, it was only two feet tall; the perfect size to match the hand carved wooden horse another friend was allowing her to borrow. Having friends who were liberal arts majors did have advantages.

The dinging of the timer in her kitchen pulled her briefly away from her chore. She removed the cookie sheet setting it on the stove to allow the last of the oatmeal cookies to cool before she moved them to the red cookie tin. After Mike had bragged on them, she decided to make a batch to drop off by Station 51 on her way to pick up the props. The thought immediately made her heart flutter nervously. She hadn't spoken to Mike since they'd worked on the project Sunday night. The aching she felt inside reminded her that the real reason she was baking the cookies for the station was to try to determine where she stood with the handsome engineer. Her reflection in the mirror after he left had created a wall of doubt inside her soul; doubt about how he felt about her and about his intentions. Whether or not she actually participated in the rehearsal had everything to do with how he reacted to her when she surprised him at the station later. She turned off the oven, removed her mitts and then resumed the task at hand.

She continued going over her list while the cookies cooled. A silver helmet for Marco was next; he'd be bringing his own axe and training manual. Then the microphone and small eight millimeter camera were written beside Roy's name. He would look so professional giving his account of the O'Connor Electroplating Company explosion as if he were a reporter. Goggles and an antique looking life jacket were chosen for Johnny's fireboat story. He and Roy would be bringing their own uniforms, the biophone, and drug box as props for their talk about adding paramedics to the fire department. She had thought long and hard about the La Tuna Canyon Fire and had decided that Chet and Marco should wear their dress uniforms and slip a piece of black ribbon around their badges as they gave the account of the auto fireman's ultimate sacrifice in 1955. Finally, she jotted down notes about various pieces of vintage style fire department uniforms including a couple of what had been described to her as 'very gaudy' looking helmets that her friends had assured her did reflect the look of the period. Mike had already told her about Roy and Johnny's turn of the century uniforms that they would be bringing for use as well.

As soon as she had filled the cookie tin with the cooled cookies, she locked up her apartment with a loud sigh. She had to admit, talking about something so personal to a group of strangers wasn't what bothered her the most. She was beginning to question whether or not her story of finding Mr. Huggins unconscious in his car would be enough proof of the need for approval of the project. The more she thought about Thursday, the more she had to admit that she was truly having second thoughts about her part of the presentation.

Across town, the tones called Engineer Stoker into his appointed seat on the Ward LaFrance while his captain climbed into the officer's seat and the two linemen bolted into their jump seats. Roy and Johnny assumed their positions inside the squad with an increased sense of urgency. Mike watched as the bay doors rose then pulled the engine out behind the squad into the yielding traffic feeling an all too familiar tightness in his gut; the kind of discomfort the entire crew felt when they knew they were making a run where a life was in jeopardy.

E!

Ryleigh hummed to herself as she drove down East Boyle Street on her way to pick up the pedal fire truck. Her route took her by the station where she hoped to spend a few minutes with a certain engineer. She could smell the fresh baked oatmeal cookies sitting in the seat beside her and couldn't wait to share them with the crew. She flipped on her blinker signaling her intention to turn left onto East 223rd Street as soon as the light turned green. The brick building quickly came into view and she slowed down as she neared Station 51 but was disappointed when she realized the bay was empty. She continued on her way to complete her errands hoping the crew would return by the time she made her way back home later in the afternoon.

E!

It took much longer to complete her prop run than she imagined it would and she had no idea just how heavy metal pedal cars were until she and another woman had struggled to lift it into her trunk. Now, she slowly made her way back to the station in Carson, cringing every time she made a turn and heard the pedal car ram into the side of her trunk.

"Oh boy, I hope Mike can put this thing on the back of his truck," she grumbled to herself knowing her trunk would never be the same after this particular excursion.

She made the left turn bringing the station into view and saw the engine being backed into the apparatus bay. A bright smile swept across her face knowing that if the men were returning from a call then they would likely appreciate the culinary gift that sat in her passenger's seat.

Roy and Johnny dragged their tired bodies out of the squad slamming their doors harder than usual. Johnny leaned his forearm on the compartment doors and propped his sweaty head against his equally moist and soot covered wrist. He could hear Mike backing the engine into the bay beside him and knew that the engine crew was feeling just as badly as he and Roy were.

Mike shut off the engine, pushing open his door and swinging down; his descent to the concrete flooring seemingly made more rapid by the added weight of guilt resting firmly on his now slumping shoulders. He removed his turnout coat draping it along the front bumper ready for the next call then caught Johnny's dark eyed stare. He nodded his head in understanding as Chet and Marco shuffled heavy feet away from the engine and toward the kitchen. Hank saw the two men sharing looks of despair and his heart ached for them. He understood their hurt and found it ironic that the most expressive and the least expressive among his crew were silently communicating their grief and frustration.

"Come on, fellas…gotta rehydrate," he said patting both men on the back and directing them towards the kitchen where he could already hear the clattering sounds of ice cubes in glasses and running water.

A gentle knock on the side door caused Roy to look up from his second glass of water. He opened the door welcoming her in but couldn't bring himself to offer her even the semblance of a smile. "Hey, Ryleigh…come on in."

"Bad run," she asked afraid she already knew the answer?

"Yea…code F…and we witnessed her death," he looked back down at the streaks of blood on his shirt. "I'm sorry, I need to go change."

"No..no, Roy…not on my account," she said as her countenance fell, shifting her gaze looking for a certain member of the crew. Finally, she saw him coming through the doorway along with Hank and Johnny and immediately her heart broke. His face was streaked with dirt, soot and what she assumed was sweat although his red eyes made her question the origin of at least some of the moisture. His normally broad shoulders were rounded by stress and his usual confident stride had diminished to a lumbering gait. She was conflicted between running to him to offer her support and giving him the space he needed to recover from what Roy had described to her. She didn't need the gruesome details to know that whatever this six man crew had just experienced was horrific. She set the cookie tin on the table when finally, compassion for the longing look on his face as their eyes met moved her swiftly to his side where neither of them hesitated to embrace the other. She didn't care that her clothes were being stained – nothing mattered at that moment except Mike.

Mike's world was blurring around him when he saw her reaching out for him and he quickly clutched her within his embrace. It took every ounce of strength he could muster not to break down at the feeling of her breathing against his neck. It was the feeling of life and it felt remarkable. He couldn't speak but then again, he didn't need to; his hands gripped her tightly as he breathed in the scent of her shampoo. He felt her embrace linger as her fingers gently massaged his back through his sweat covered shirts. "Wh..what are you doing here?" He released her just enough to look into her eyes as he waited to hear her answer.

"I, uh…well, I brought you guys some cookies," she said pointing to the red cookie tin on the kitchen table. "And I've been out collecting the stuff for the presentation."

He tried to smile but was only partially successful. "Thank you, Ryleigh. That was so thoughtful of you."

Familiar voices around them began to speak up. Hank was reminding them all to drink plenty of water. Chet and Marco were mumbling while Johnny opened up the cookie tin; the delicious smell finally penetrating the fog of misery around him.

"Mmmm, gonna need milk with these," he offered Ryleigh a smile of appreciation that didn't make it to his eyes.

"Yes…thank you," Hank said with what appeared to be a genuine smile.

She remained at the station for at least an hour listening to bits and pieces of the harrowing story of their last run. They seemed to need to talk about it and for reasons she didn't fully understand at the moment, she needed to listen. Finally, she knew what she needed to do.

"Listen…I, uh…I can't make it to the rehearsal tomorrow night but I promise to be there Thursday." She waited for the backlash but there was none. The guys were simply too depleted to actually digest her comment. "Can you help me get the props out of my car, Mike? I want you to have them for the rehearsal," she said tugging on his arm gently.

Mike followed her out to her car and together they transferred the boxes from her car to the back of his truck, including the heavy pedal car. When he saw it, he couldn't help but allow a smile to light up his features. "I guess this is what I'm using?"

Glad to see his personality making an appearance, she returned his grin with one of her own. "Yep…got a special helmet for you too," she joked pulling out a very ornate looking replica of an antique fire helmet.

His snickering response warmed her heart and when his eyes met hers the warmth spread throughout her body.

"Thank you just doesn't seem like enough," his crystal blue eyes flickered looking deeply into her green orbs. "When this is over…well, can I take you out for dinner and a movie?"

"You don't have to do that," she responded not wanting him to feel that he owed her anything.

"I know," he hesitated licking his lips and moving a little closer to her. "But, I want to; I want to get to know you better."

"I'd really like that," she said then swallowed hard as he leaned his head down kissing her softly on the lips. When he pulled back slightly to look at her again, she could see hesitation on his lips. "What?"

He gave her a slight smirk. "You don't really have a…um, conflict with tomorrow night, do you?"

"Not really…but I do need to work on my part of the presentation…and you guys need some time to sort through what happened today. You don't need me around for that." She felt his hands run down the length of her arms then lightly clasp her hands.

"Ryleigh Abrams…you are one amazing woman," he said before quietly turning to head back inside the station.

"Michael Stoker…you are one amazing man yourself," she mused then headed for her car with a new determination in her soul and a few details she needed to get from Vince Howard. Thursday had to be absolutely perfect and for the first time, she felt that what she could add to the presentation just might be up to par with what the men from Station 51 were going to present. _They can't say no to us…they HAVE to approve it. They WILL approve it!_

E!

A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful encouragement I've received while writing this story. Sharing your thoughts – both what you liked and what didn't work – has really kicked my muse in gear. One more chapter to go and I hope to get it posted soon. Thanks again for reading.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Johnny stood at the entrance to the conference room at headquarters with his stethoscope against the closed oak door, his chiseled face a mixture of anticipation and frustration. His normally mussed up hair was shorter than usual with only a few wisps of bangs dangling haphazardly across his concentration wrinkled forehead.

"Hey, DeSoto? What the hell's he doin'?"

Roy's blue eyes sliced a glance at the man whose curly hair had also been cut in preparation for this particular project. "He's checking out the competition."

A depraved grin pulled Chet's mustache up on both sides. He stood up, making his way toward his pigeon like a domesticated feline stalking a mouse. Just before he was in position to do whatever his alter ego had been plotting, Captain Stanley thwarted his efforts.

"Kelly…Gage! Get your butts back over here," Hank growled in a stage whisper.

The two men looked over at the other side of the waiting area where Hank had just returned from his outside excursion. Neither man liked the look on his face but they both knew that their near misdeeds would be easily forgotten if their presentation was approved.

"Not yet," Hank said softly to his pacing engineer.

Mike allowed his gaze to drift from his captain back to the white speckled institutional tile floor and his feet resumed their pacing. _Come on, Ryleigh…you're making me nervous. _He remembered her voice as she assured him she'd be present for the presentation no later than 9:30 am. Now that the clock over the entrance to the conference room was nearing 10 o'clock, his worry grew exponentially with every loud tick of the second hand.

Suddenly, the door of the conference room opened revealing a paramedic known to everyone from 51's. He pushed his glasses up higher on his nose and walked confidently past Chet and Johnny. "Kelly…Gage," he acknowledged with a brief nod of his dark-haired head.

"Craig," Johnny spat out with a sarcastic grimace knowing how much the retreating man disliked the use of given names; he preferred to keep work relationships formal with the use of surnames only. "Brice, mice, lice," Johnny mumbled once he knew the other paramedic had moved beyond hearing range. Mentally, he was hurled back in time to the meetings of the Paramedic Advisory Committee held at Rampart a few months earlier.*

Chet turned his back to Hank; his face contorted and reddened with his eyes screwed shut as he struggled to defeat a terminal case of silly giggles. He didn't want to risk fate twice in the same hour by earning yet another scowl from his shift captain.

The creaking of the conference room door opening drew the attention of all six men anxiously awaiting their turn. Chief McConnike emerged looking at the assembled group in search of their leader. "Hank, you and your men ready?"

The lanky captain gulped back his anxiety, standing as he addressed the man with whom he'd had such a rocky relationship years earlier. "Y…ahem," he cleared his throat bringing his voice down an octave, "yes sir, we are."

The older man smiled. "Excellent. Give us about 10 minutes to discuss the last presentation and I'll come back and get you." He dipped his head slightly and returned to the closed off room.

Hank looked over at Mike; his anxiety level rising to match that of his engineer's. "Alright, if she doesn't make it we'll just have to ad lib her portion. Think we can do it?"

Mike pursed his lips into a thin line then shrugged his shoulders in surrender. "We'll do whatever we have to do." He had to use his best poker face to hide his emotional turmoil. If he were being honest with himself he'd have to admit that the pretty brunette was really beginning to strum his heart strings. _Please be ok, Ryleigh…please be ok._

As soon as Chief McConnike retreated back behind the closed door, Captain Stanley gathered his men with a clap of his hands, rubbing them briskly together while shrugging his shoulders upwards. "Ok, let's try to keep our transitions smooth and quick. The committee's time is very valuable and we don't want to do anything detrimental to our project. Now, we've got 10 minutes to get ready so let's go ahead and get our costumes and props ready to go…and remember, once you finish with a prop, leave it in there so they'll have a good visual of the transformation the department has made over the years." The idea had been Ryleigh's; the one person Hank really wanted to see right now.

Seven minutes ticked by and Hank was already going over in his mind how he would rap the entire thing up when the sound of a different door opening drew the attention of the group. In walked a person whose shadowed face was covered in a thin mask giving it an eerie paleness and her eyes a deep hollowness. Her entire body was cloaked in a hooded floor length black robe with jagged edges at the bottom to hide her black shoes and jagged sleeves that hung well below her hands. She set down a large black leather bag and briefly pushed up her sleeves, revealing that her hands were also covered in pale stage make-up with gray streaks to resemble decaying flesh and bones.

"Sorry I'm late," Ryleigh announced to the stunned group; it took Kerrigan a while to get the mask in place and the make-up done. Then…"

Mike quickly closed the distance between them interrupting her explanation. "You really had me worried," he whispered, curving a protective arm around her waist; appreciating her bright, albeit ghastly smile.

"I guess I surprised an L.A. city cop with this garb," she snickered. "I got pulled over and it took me a while to explain where I was going and why," she turned in Hank's direction. "Captain Stanley, I might need you to contact the officer to verify my story," she looked at him with haunted dark rimmed eyes that didn't match the warm smile emanating from her ghostly face.

"You probably scared the shi…uh, crap out of him but, um…if he wants me to contact him, I'll be glad to," he grinned.

The conference room door opened again and Chief McConnike stepped into the waiting area. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he took in the transformation the group had made now that they were wearing their costumes and holding their props. The look of confusion morphed into shock when he saw what looked like the Grim Reaper standing alongside an engineer from yesteryear. "H-Hank?"

"Yes sir, Chief…we're ready when you are." Hank had been feeling a fluttering in his stomach all morning as his nervousness about the presentation had grown but now, seeing the shock on his former Captain's face, the butterflies dissipated. He briefly thought of his one and only act of arson and a calmness he couldn't explain completely enveloped him. This would go well; he could feel it. And the guys were going to enjoy his story when it was all finalized.

Mike entered the conference room first to give the opening remarks. He wasn't yet in costume like Hank so it was his job to explain the format they would be using for their presentation. He stood proud and confident, making eye contact with each member of the committee as he spoke; his persona in direct opposition to the devastated engineer he'd been two days earlier. He couldn't allow his insecurities to make their presence known; this was much too important. As soon as he finished, he opened the conference room door allowing Hank to enter wearing Roy's soot covered turn of the century uniform complete with yellow kerchief tied around his neck and finished off with a pair of worn brown leather boots. In one hand he carried the hand carved wooden horse and in the other was the scrap yard art Nott steam engine. Mike smiled at his superior giving him an almost imperceptible nod then closed the door behind him. He only had five minutes to change into his own costume.

Marco had rigged up the metal pedal fire engine with a reel line that Mike could use to pull it into the room. As he exited the men's restroom, he looked at the motley crew standing in the waiting area and smiled with pride. _Amazing_, he thought to himself as he accepted the proffered red hose that turned the pedal car into an oversized pull toy.

Momentarily, the door creaked and Hank held it open while Mike entered the room; one hand held the ornate helmet securely on his head while the other pulled the reel line over his shoulder as if he were hauling hose to a fire. The squeaking of the car as he pulled it farther into the room echoed throughout the large space; only silencing when Hank released the heavy wooden door.

Minutes later, Johnny stood ready with dampened hair, goggles, an old musty faded orange life jacket and a large model replica of a boat similar to L.A. Fireboat #2. He closed his eyes imagining the combined scents of salt water and burning wood as he mentally prepared himself to step back in time to the wharf fire. He opened his eyes when his engineer held open the door for him; immediately he became a firefighter in the tale he was about to tell. As soon as Johnny had entered the room, Mike let go of the door and quickly made his way to the men's restroom to change back into his department issued modern day uniform.

Marco stood just outside the conference room door donning his silver metal helmet when he heard Johnny's footsteps nearing from the other side. He propped his axe on his left shoulder and turned the training manual so that it faced his audience ready to enter when the door swung open. He began to think of how he would have felt if he had been sent to fight the infamous Griffith Park Fire. Johnny gave his friend a lopsided smile as he held open the door. He then made his way to the men's restroom as well so that he could change into his paramedic uniform.

Roy picked up the camera and the oversized microphone in preparation for his upcoming segment. He sucked in a deep breath then blew it out forcefully, puffing out his cheeks in the process. As soon as Marco cracked open the door, the red haired medic rushed through it seemingly in a hurry to capture a breaking story. He quickly set up the tripod for the small camera and stood before it, breathing heavily, as if giving an eyewitness account of the terrifying explosion about which his segment was centered.

After completing his assignment and signing off, Roy returned to the entrance, pulling open the door to allow two very somber looking linemen to enter wearing their dress uniforms complete with black ribbon adorned badges. Both men had stood outside the conference room imagining their own engineer succumbing to burns over so much of his body; burns he'd sustained manning the controls of the engine to ensure that the two linemen had the water they needed to safely complete their task. Marco entered first with Chet walking directly behind him, his hands poised behind his back clutching the headset for his next report. As they spoke of departmental losses – focusing on the one that had created nightmares for Mike, Hank quietly stepped just inside the door holding a cassette recorder and the oversized model helicopter. As soon as the La Tuna Canyon Fire presentation was over, he pressed the 'play' button and felt unseen hands squeeze the breath from his lungs as a bagpipe rendition of 'Taps' echoed within the room. As the last refrain of the emotion laden song played out, he and Marco passed each other; Marco heading for the exit to change into his work uniform while Hank delivered the helicopter to Chet just as the lineman pulled on the headset. Hank then left the room through the door being held open by Marco as all committee eyes turned to Chet.

Roy and Johnny stood just outside the door, each wearing his stethoscope around his neck. They listened carefully for their cue and when they heard Chet ending his Baldwin Hills Reservoir Flood presentation with coughing and gasping sounds, they rushed into the room in full paramedic mode. Chet had dropped to his knees, giving added flare to this portion of his presentation, but as soon as he heard the paramedics enter the room, he allowed his eyes to roll back and assumed an unconscious supine position. Roy reached him first and immediately began checking for a pulse. Johnny positioned himself on the opposite side of their pretend victim with his back to the committee; part of this particular skit was going to be a bit tricky to perform and he and Chet had already agreed that it was NOT going to be completely realistic. He opened the biophone and pretended to contact Rampart General Hospital.

"Rampart, this is squad 51…how do you read?"

Roy leaned his head down holding his left ear just above Chet's partially opened mouth while pretending to be watching for the lineman's chest to rise and fall. He carefully listened for John's voice in the background waiting to deliver his next line.

"Rampart, we have a male victim, approximately 32 years of age. Unconscious, victim of a near drowning…"

Suddenly, Roy barked out, "He isn't breathing and there's no pulse!" He raised himself up on his knees to begin his fake chest compressions as he craned his neck and yelled towards the door, "Cap…we need the O2 and defibrillator." He had been practicing and seemed to have perfected his technique of bending his elbows so as not to harm his volunteer victim.

Johnny continued on the biophone, "Rampart, we've lost the victim's pulse….beginning CPR." He relinquished his grip on the biophone as he positioned himself closer to Chet's head. Johnny laid the side of his right hand against Chet's forehead at the hairline and expertly tilted the lineman's head back, lifting his chin and pinching off his nose. He inhaled deeply then lowered his face toward Chet's – a position that left both men feeling a little uncomfortable. He pretended to be administering life-saving rescue breaths while Roy continued his semi realistic chest compressions. Johnny knew how important this presentation was but he was also very glad that his nemesis had agreed that there would be absolutely no mouth to mouth contact.

The door of the room burst open as Marco and Mike rushed in wearing their turnout coats and carrying the defibrillator and oxygen tank. Hank followed with a handy talkie, waiting a few beats for the scene to play out a little longer.

After the third round of fake rescue breaths, Chet began to cough gasping for air amid loud wheezing. Mike placed the oxygen mask on his friend's face as Marco pushed the defibrillator aside and handed the biophone receiver back to Johnny.

"Rampart, victim is breathing on his own. We have him on oxygen now….standby for vitals."

Chet began to groan and move about as Roy adjusted the flow of oxygen and looked at his watch while grasping Chet's wrist. Johnny placed both hands on the writhing man's shoulders. "Hey, take it easy, a'right? You're gonna be ok…just relax and keep breathing the oxygen."

Hank pretended to key the handy talkie as if he were conversing with dispatch. "L.A., Engine 51, get me an ETA on the ambulance dispatched to our location."

Hank's call for an ambulance was the cue Ryleigh had been waiting for; his words also resulted in a freeze-frame of the scene as they awaited Ryleigh's eerie entrance. She pulled open the door and entered, making sure to make eye contact with each member of the committee as she slowly walked past the paramedic scene stopping between the elongated table of committee members and the men of 'A' shift from Station 51. She needed each man sitting at the table to briefly consider his own mortality. She set down her bag, opening it to remove a gray push button phone; a phone exactly like the one she had used to call for help the day Mr. Huggins died. She held it on her left palm allowing the committee members to have a good view of the way it may have looked sitting on the circulation desk of the library. She hesitated momentarily, settling her nerves and summoning her courage then launched into her tale of what had happened that fateful day. The only difference was that she was telling the story from a different point of view – as if she were the Grim Reaper or the Angel of Death standing at the scene observing it all.

E!

*"Rules of Order" season 6

A/N: This chapter was becoming much too long so I decided to divide it into two parts. The final chapter will be a little lengthy but everything will be revealed then. Thanks so much for reading. I truly appreciate you all.


	14. Chapter 14

Warning: Description of adolescent death and epilogue contains graphic language

A/N: Be sure to read beyond the author's notes at the end as the epilogue is important to this story.

Chapter 14

Ryleigh stood still, moving only her eyes as she silently communicated with each man sitting behind the elongated table. She allowed them a few moments to ponder her presence, themselves, and the freeze-frame scene behind her depicting Los Angeles County Fire Department firefighters/paramedics on scene at a rescue. Once she was satisfied that every pair of eyes was fixed on her and that every mind was completely engaged in the moment, she began.

"_A scene very similar to the one you just witnessed happened less than a week ago…but the outcome was not as positive." _ She spoke using a flat voice devoid of emotion as she seemed to glide before each member of the committee. "_I was hovering in front of a local library when Mr. Ray Huggins arrived. You see, I knew that last Saturday was supposed to be the day he would come with me," _for emphasis, she waved her free ghostly hand behind her as if indicating a portal to the Netherworld. _"A library employee had already arrived to open the doors and I saw her smile as she turned the front door sign around from 'closed' to indicate the library was now open. She had seen her favorite patron turning into his usual parking spot and was happily awaiting his arrival inside the quietness of the early morning library." _

Again, she hesitated briefly to allow her words to sink in, settling a skeleton-like hand across her chest. She had to say everything in just the right way so as to transport the committee back in time to the previous Saturday morning. _"But he was never to step a foot inside that library again," _she spoke grimly with her head bowed stepping forward and placing the telephone on the table in front of the committee chairman, Chief McConnike, making sure it was placed facing him as though he were about to make a phone call_. _

Beneath the robe and make-up, Ryleigh's heart was thudding inside her chest as she fought to keep her emotions in check. "_A few minutes passed and when the young woman made her way back to the front door to clean the glass, I saw a look of horror overwhelm her features…and I knew she had seen him. He was slumped over the steering wheel of his car, unconscious. I watched and waited as she RIPPED the front door open SLAMMIMG it into the wall of the library foyer. Of course, I couldn't allow her to reach him so soon." _

She inhaled and exhaled a cleansing breath…this was much more difficult than she had expected it to be. She allowed an evil grin to spread slowly across her face then continued, so light on her feet she appeared to be floating to and fro in front of the committee. "You see, o_n that day, I was determined that Mr. Huggins would be going with me." _ She pointed a boney index finger at her own chest. "_So, as she RUSHED toward the steps, she stumbled," _although she didn't say it, Ryleigh peeked a black shoe out from beneath the hem of her long flowing garment presenting the idea that perhaps the stumble was not accidental, then turned her back to the committee members for a brief moment.

On his knees, still frozen in place, Mike's heart was about to burst with pride. She was performing so well, her voice and appearance so convincing. Although he couldn't see her, he knew that the character she was portraying was laying the groundwork for the proposition he knew his captain was silently rehearsing.

"_SLAM!" _She clapped her skeletonized hands together as she spun around and was pleased to see a few of the committee member's jump. She had no idea that behind her, others had been jolted as well.

"_The young woman slid head first across the marble and concrete injuring herself….mwahahahaha,"_ she emphasized with a maniacal chuckle. "_She tried to open the doors of his car but they were locked and so she began to POUND and POUND her blood covered hands against the windows and windshield. When she got no response, she made her way back inside to call for help." _ Another evil grin belied her broken heart as she pushed herself on with the story. _"Once again, I blocked her efforts by covering up the emergency numbers posted beside the library telephone," _she pointed at the telephone positioned in front of the Chief_. "I watched her tear-streaked face as she THREW the offending books and magazines off the table and SHOVED various papers around until she finally revealed the numbers she sought. She picked up the telephone with shaky hands and in a trembling cracking voice she explained what had happened and the kind of help that was needed." _

Again, Ryleigh hesitated allowing the mental images she was creating to sink into the minds of the listeners. "_Seldom do I have a sense of pity," _she raised a boney looking index finger, _"but on this day, I decided to be gentle with her. I allowed her to return to Mr. Huggins –safely, this time - and wait for his would-be rescuers to arrive…knowing that I had successfully delayed them by several minutes; long enough to ensure that on this day, VICTORY…WAS….MINE!"_

Turning, she saw that the six men behind her were remaining in position awaiting the line that would cue them to move again and resume a standing position. She knew they had no idea what she was going to do next. She stopped beside her open leather bag and retrieved a very large wall clock, gripping it tightly to her chest presenting the face toward the committee. Ryleigh momentarily lowered her head gulping back her emotions and clearing her throat. This was the part she had truly been dreading. This was the segment where she relayed the information she'd gained from Vince Howard, information about which the firefighters standing behind her were mostly unaware. Finally, she looked up breathing deeply as she locked eyes with each member of the committee for a moment, making sure she once again had their complete attention.

"_Gentlemen, last Saturday was not the most recent example of my prowess." _She held the clock so that the view of the committee was unobstructed. She tapped a pasty finger on the clock's face to indicate the time of the story she was about to tell. "_At 10:51 just two days ago, I once again defeated the mighty forces of the Los Angeles County Fire Department." _

She turned sideways giving the men still frozen in place behind her an unmistakable hand signal indicating they were to stand. From Hank's position in the scene, he and Marco were the only ones who could see her signal to them but as soon as the two of them began to move the others followed their lead. Chet was the last man to stand having to remove the oxygen mask and rise from a horizontal position. Hank and the rest of the crew tried to keep the alarm off their faces but what she was doing now was not in their original script. Complying, they each stood up assuming a formation similar to the one used for roll call. Their captain positioned himself at the head of the line awaiting his turn to explain their proposal.

Satisfied that she could continue, Ryleigh braced herself for the rest of the story she had to tell, knowing full well how painful it would be for the men standing behind her to relive the events of their last shift.

"_Maria Cortez was only 17 years old but she suffered from migraine headaches. On Tuesday morning, she awoke not feeling well but decided to join her parents for breakfast anyway, happy that school was out for Spring Break. While eating a bowl of cereal, a gray dot formed in the middle of her field of vision and she knew that the excruciating pain would not be far behind. She told her parents what was happening then kissed them good-bye as they left for work. She decided to go back to bed hoping to sleep through the worst of it…but the pain of her migraine wasn't the only thing she managed to sleep through." _Ryleigh floated along the row of mesmerized committee members. She dared not look behind her at the faces of the men she thought of so highly.

"_An electrical fire began in the kitchen of her home and quickly found plenty of fuel to feed on as it hungrily devoured the wall between the kitchen and the stairway leading to the upstairs bedrooms. As Maria snuggled deeper into her medicated sleep, the all-consuming beast crawled up the stairs on its way to the girl's bedroom. When finally the smoke that preceded the flames began to sneak beneath her closed bedroom door, she groggily became aware of her predicament. Coughing as her young lungs fought to prevent the smoke from entering her respiratory system, she tried to leave the burning residence but found her only exit blocked; the stairs were completely engulfed by the flaming menace." _

Ryleigh walked closer to Chief McConnike and tapped her wicked looking index finger against the telephone she had placed before him earlier. _"She managed to make it to her parents' room where she knew there was a telephone. She dug around in the night stand searching for a phone book where she knew the emergency numbers were prominently displayed…only to discover there wasn't one. Panicked, she picked up the phone and dialed a very familiar number - the number to her best friend's house a few miles away."_

Beads of sweat began to slither down from Ryleigh's temples. The robe was holding in her body heat but she was also feeling somewhat trapped between the men behind her and the fire department brass in front of her. She had to share every gruesome heart-wrenching detail to set the stage. Using an analogy Mike would have appreciated, she considered herself loading the bases for Hank, thus positioning him to hit a grand slam to close out their presentation and drive home the idea they were proposing.

"_When her best friend, Paula, answered the phone, Maria explained, amid gasping coughs, that her house was on fire and she was trapped upstairs. Paula quickly hung up the phone and pulled out her phone book, dialing the number to the fire department; an act somewhat hampered by the use of a rotary telephone. At 10:51, the Los Angeles County Fire Department Dispatch toned out Station 51_ _where the men standing behind me now were on shift." _She could only imagine the emotions Mike and the others were enduring as she told her story. Even so, she somehow mustered up the strength to finish her tale.

"_As the emergency vehicles from Station 51 barreled through the streets on their way to their call, Maria found herself no longer able to breathe the acrid air that was rapidly filling the upstairs rooms. The heat and flames penetrated the door of her room and even though she could hear the wailing sirens announcing the firefighter's approach, she could no longer stay within the confines of her bedroom. Knowing that the light sensitivity induced by her migraine headache would be blindingly painful, she decided to climb out her bedroom window onto the bright metallic roof and wait for rescue. The squad and engine arrived and the drivers of those vehicles followed their training and departmental protocol in initiating their rescue." _Ryleigh hung her head hugging the large clock even tighter to her chest. "_While the paramedics were donning their turnouts and the linemen were removing the ladder necessary for a successful rescue, their victim shifted in her crouching position but because her eyes were tightly shut, she had lost her orientation on the roof…and subsequently lost her footing. With six well-trained and talented firefighters watching and moving into position to rescue her, Maria Cortez fell to her death, landing on her back on the concrete steps and sidewalk in front of her house. The back of her head and neck suffered the brunt of her fall and there was nothing those six men could do to save her. Her injuries were so severe that death was instantaneous. In that moment, she was gone...while six of L.A.'s finest watched in horror."_

Again, she paced in front of the members of the committee. "_As I said before, I again defeated the Los Angeles County Fire Department but I fear the brave men and women who make up this department are quickly closing in on me. This particular defeat of the department was only by one or two minutes…the same amount of time it took for her to search for a phone book where there wasn't one and to call her best friend for help."_

Ryleigh set the clock down on the table beside the telephone then took a couple of steps back from the table holding up her hand to let Hank know it was not yet time for him to begin his final wrap-up. She lowered the hood from her robe, removed her glasses then peeled off the mask that had left her face looking haunted. She unzipped the black robe stepping out of the garment and draping it over her arms to hide the heavy grotesque make-up so that she appeared before the assembly looking more like her normal self in jeans and a red short-sleeved sweater. She quickly replaced her glasses so she could get a good look at the men she was about to address.

"_Gentlemen, my name's Ryleigh Abrams and I'm the library employee described in the first story; the one who called for help for Mr. Ray Huggins. I'm a History major at UCLA and Mr. Huggins loved to share his personal knowledge of both World Wars with me. Last Saturday, I watched in awe at the valiant efforts of the entire crew now standing behind me as they tried to save him. They employed every tool available to them including their training in methods of vehicular extrication as well as paramedic training to revive him…but sadly it was not to be." _She took another step backwards leaving her within an arm's length of the station crew. She stood in the center of the line with Mike, Roy and Johnny on her left and Chet, Marco and Hank on her right.

"_The story of Maria Cortez is much more difficult for these men to accept. I've watched Mike and Roy beat themselves up terribly wondering if perhaps they could have driven faster to the scene; even though doing so could've jeopardized the lives of citizens driving on the streets as well as their own. I listened as Marco and Chet debated with each other how they could've gotten the ladder to her sooner while the normally talkative John seemed to shut down running over and over again in his mind how he could've stopped her from shifting on that roof. Their officer, Captain Hank Stanley, has struggled to restore the confidence of his crew while wondering himself what he could've done differently. After all, they only needed an additional one to two minutes in order to have positioned themselves to save her. The department has come a long way since horses pulled the steam engine to the scene of a fire. Advancements like the jaws of life and paramedicine have given countless victims a chance to survive when before they would have faced certain death. But gentlemen, it isn't enough…because we have yet to find a way to beat the clock." _She nodded her head in the direction of the clock as she took the final step backwards to join the men in their line and allow Hank the opportunity to present their proposal.

Casting a glance to her left she saw Johnny busily working his jaw muscles as Roy lowered his eyes, blinking rapidly. Mike stood tall and confident but she could see his lips pressed thinly and his nostrils flaring as he fought to contain his emotions, remembering the sound of the girl's body landing against the concrete with a sickening thud, silencing her brief scream. To her right she could see Marco as a couple of tears coursed down his tanned face. Chet stood shuffling his weight from one foot to the other suddenly feeling very uncomfortable as he was forced to remember that horrible residential fire.

Hank's eyes registered the anticipation of the men seated before him while his heart felt the remorse of his crew with whom he stood. He took a few steps forward and with all the authority his voice could muster, he began. "_Gentleman, I stand before you as a captain of what I consider to be the best crew ever assembled in a Los Angeles County Fire Station. And yet, you've just heard tales of two," _he held uphis fingers as a visual aid_, "code F's in just the last week." He began to pace before the assembled officers making eye contact, making sure to lock eyes with Battalion Chief McConnike. "Do these code F's somehow reflect deficiencies within this crew?" _

He made his way to the far end of the line and one by one spoke of the merits of each man. _"My second in command, Firefighter Specialist Mike Stoker. Engineer Stoker rose through the ranks quickly excelling in his skills and passing the Engineer's exam with a very high score. His exemplary record of service to the citizens of this county is beyond reproach. When the rest of us assemble on board our engine, we never question his ability to get us safely to and from the incident, regardless of how many calls he's already answered or how exhausting the shift might be. We count on him to keep the water flowing at the right pressure and he never fails. We trust him with our lives." _

Reversing his steps, he walked the length of the line up until he reached the opposite end. "_Firefighter Marco Lopez. A veteran with the department, Firefighter Lopez has speed, agility and strength; everything a Captain is looking for in a Senior Lineman. He can connect a supply line to a hydrant with record speed and never miss a beat. He can haul hose up ladders and stairwells and after hours of this muscle burning activity, he has just as much energy as when he started. His times on his drills are the envy of every boot in this department."_ Marco's dark eyes seemed to sparkle as Hank moved on past him to the shorter lineman.

"_Firefighter Chester B. Kelly. Although he's the junior linemen of this crew, there is nothing inferior about the abilities of Firefighter Kelly. Chet may be the shortest member here but when it comes to climbing ladders for vertical ventilation, he's one of the fastest and most sure footed in the county. Both he and his partner, Firefighter Lopez, never hesitate to enter a burning building when there is a life at stake. Neither man shirks his duty and his responsibility to the tax- payers of our fine county. They have an innate ability to communicate non-verbally as they join forces in the attack and rest assured, gentlemen, they represent the best this department has to offer when it comes to fighting fires. _

He paused long enough to see Chet gulp and knew the young man rarely ever heard his Captain's public praises. Hank thought briefly how often he had verbally reprimanded him over the years and silently vowed not to withhold public praise. He took a few steps, winking at Ryleigh as he passed her by on his way to the next man on his list.

"_Firefighter/Paramedic John Gage. He's known around our station as being a bit of a daredevil but as his Captain I can honestly say that I haven't seen him take any risks the rest of us wouldn't take in his shoes. He is the lightest of my men, meaning he often is the one who is repelling off the side of a building or being the slimmest, he's the one who crawls into the carnage of twisted metal that I'm not sure even a small house cat could climb into. Yet, he does these things in order to save lives. And I dare say that he and his partner here," _Hank pointed to Roy, "_are probably the most successful paramedic team in all of Los Angeles County – perhaps the entire state. He began his career as a rescue man over at Station 10 but when his captain heard about a new program, he thought Firefighter Gage was perfect for it. Now, of course being so young, Firefighter Gage had other ideas; that is, until he lost a patient during a rescue, a man who had been electrocuted, and he knew that there had to be more he could do in the field to save more lives. And so he went to talk to this man."_

Hank took one final step to the end of the line. "_Firefighter/Paramedic Roy DeSoto. Not only does Fireman DeSoto possess the skills of an excellent firefighter but he is also a visionary. Before the Wedworth-Townsend Act was even approved by our legislature, he chose to pursue the training necessary to become a paramedic even though he wasn't allowed to function as one in the field. He's a member of a very elite group; he was in the very first class of paramedics trained out of Harbor General. He didn't wait for the approval of the legislature because in his words to Firefighter Gage…and I quote…'we're already too late.'"*_

Hank turned and faced the committee locking eyes with each member. "_Yes, each man in this crew stands on his own merits; each is unique in his abilities and stands out as a professional…but to see them working together is truly a sight to behold. The most intricately designed piece of machinery is nothing compared to the way this group works together and the number of lives and amount of property saved is far beyond what you might imagine. But, as you've already heard Miss Abrams say so well…'it isn't enough.'"_

He took a few steps over to the place where Chief McConnike sat and picked up the large clock Ryleigh had placed before the older man. "_We have yet to find a way to beat the clock,"_ he said repeating her final words. He slowly laid the clock back down then eyed each committee member. "_Or haven't we?"_

Hank began to once again pace, making sure the eyes of the committee members were following him as he made his way around each prop that had been used earlier. "_When I first joined Station 51 in its second year, we all made sure we canvassed our district handing out telephone stickers and magnets. Every home, every business, every phone booth and bulletin board had our contact number. And yet there were times when even that effort wasn't enough."_

Roy and Johnny exchanged knowing looks as they remembered the death of their former instructor.

Hank continued,_"Dr. Parson's was a popular pediatrician and lecturer for the paramedic program. He assisted in training both Roy and John. And yet, he died as a direct result of choking in a restaurant he frequented because no one there called the fire department until it was too late. Precious minutes were lost while the owner thumbed through the yellow pages trying to call for a doctor when all he had to do was call the number on the telephone sticker he'd been given a few months earlier."**_

Hank squared his shoulders standing up to his full height of six feet four inches. "_Members of the committee, there IS a way to beat the clock; a way to save the lives of many like perhaps Mr. Huggins or likely Dr. Parsons and most assuredly Maria Cortez. And to quote my Senior Medic…'we're already too late.' How? Because the technology has been available and in use for over a decade in this country…approximately eight years in the state of California alone. You see, a small town in the Northwest corner of Alabama was the first to implement it and on February 16, 1968 the first 9-1-1 call was made there in Haleyville. Since that time, hundreds maybe thousands of lives have been saved because of quicker response times. You all know as well as I do that every minute…in fact, every second counts in an emergency. So then I must ask you: why can't we do away with long telephone numbers our citizens must memorize or have posted near their phones? And not only full telephone numbers but different numbers for the police, sheriff and fire departments? Merced County, California has it as do counties in Texas and New York. So why don't we install the system that's been in place and operational in rural Haleyville, Alabama and Merced County, California so that the citizens of Los Angeles County will have the same benefits and protections?"_

Hank gave the committee a moment to reflect on what he'd just told them. He then finished up with the proposal. "_I find it ironic that the city of Los Angeles Fire Department was established in 1886, ten years after Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone. We stand here today, ten years after the first 9-1-1 call was made in our country….See? Like Roy said, we're already too late. But we've got to start somewhere so why not right here and right now?"_

The lanky captain held up his hand, palm facing towards the committee as if silencing the protests he knew were beginning to bubble up in their minds. "_I know what you're thinking…political lines, financial constraints, logistical nightmares…all are very valid reasons as to why 9-1-1 isn't already operational here. You've been reminded of how far we've come through our presentation today…but you've also been reminded of how far we have left to go. Let me ask you this. Are the lives of our citizens - those whose tax dollars pay our salaries which includes members of your own families – valuable enough to defeat those reasons and join forces with the other fire and law enforcement agencies in this county and push to get this system up and running?" _

Hank lowered his head momentarily, "_Gentlemen, we thank you for your time and consideration." _He picked up the clock and telephone from the table seeing that Chief McConnike had been making notes…a lot of notes. The rest of the crew which on this day included Ryleigh, broke their formation and began gathering up the props and equipment they had used. But an echoing sound began which started out as a patter and ended as a thunderous roar. Each crew member turned around and in complete astonishment saw the entire committee rising to their feet and clapping their hands. Mike, Ryleigh, Marco, Chet, Johnny and Roy chuckled softly as Chief McConnike stepped from behind the table to shake hands with his former engineer. There were words of a congratulatory nature being spoken as the Chief slapped Captain Stanley on the back. And with their arms loaded and Mike pulling the squeaky metal car out the door they each saw what they had been hoping to see…Captain Stanley in the presence of Battalion Chief McConnike…and both men were smiling.

E!

Mike led the group to his pick-up truck where they all began to stow the props in the truck bed. He and Ryleigh would be spending the next few hours delivering them back to their rightful owners.

"Ryleigh…you're really good at storytelling."

She smiled at the older lineman who was placing the wooden horse and steam engine on back of Mike's truck; their captain was still inside talking to the committee. "Thank you, Marco."

"He's right but, um," Chet looked down nodding at Ryleigh's arms, "you might want to start using some lotion or something 'cause your arms are lookin' kinda dry."

Mike opened his mouth but was cut off by Ryleigh's retort.

"Hey, be nice or you might just find yourself being moisturized by a water bomb," she said with a giggle.

"Stoker! You told her? Guess there's no secrets among our crew," he said with nod of his head and a smile that let everyone know he was enjoying the light banter.

"Actually, there's still one secret," Johnny squinted his eyes in the direction of the entrance to headquarters seeing Captain Stanley walking towards them.

Hank looked at the questioning faces of his crew as he neared them. He knew they were wondering what had been discussed after they left the room.

"Whatcha think, Cap?" Johnny asked with one hand propped on his hip while the opposite elbow propped on the hood of Mike's truck; his trademark grin splashed across his face.

"I think it went quite well," he stated, pulling Ryleigh into a sideways hug. "Chief wanted me to let you all know that when you retire from the department you might have a shot at an acting career," his chuckle left them wondering if that was truly what Chief McConnike had said.

"So you think they might do it?"

"Yea, Mike…I think there's a really good chance they'll take it on."

"When will we know?" The question was Roy's.

"Yea, Cap…when will we know if you're gonna hafta tell us about that hat burnin'?"

Hank looked at Chet, opening his mouth to give him a smart aleck answer but then remembered the look on the Irishmen's face when he'd praised his work earlier and decided to simply answer the question he had been asked. "Well, no more than two weeks, I'd guess."

Johnny leaned in towards his partner and whispered, "I just hope Brice doesn't win."

"Grow up, Junior." Roy couldn't stop his eye roll as he pushed himself from his leaning position against Mike's driver's side door.

"I can't help it….I just don't like him. I mean, he…"

"Well," Hank began interrupting what was sure to be another Johnny rant. "I guess we'll know soon enough. I do want to thank each one of you for joining me in this effort. It took a lot of work and I've never been more proud of you men, uh, and lady," he smiled at Ryleigh, "than I am today." He watched the expressions on their faces and was glad he'd said the words.

"See you guys in the mornin'," Johnny tossed over his shoulder as he and Roy turned toward his Rover.

"Don't be late, Gage."

Johnny smirked at Chet's comment then splayed his open hand over his chest as he took a few steps backwards. "Hey, I wasn't the last one to get here today," he grinned winking at the only female among them.

"Yea, yea…save your energy for the latrine." Chet yelled as he opened the door of his VW van.

Ryleigh leaned up on her toes giving Mike a quick peck on the cheek. "I'm going to go on home and get cleaned up. I'll be ready when you get there," she said with a bit of a flirtatious flare.

"See you soon," he said with a blush.

"Mike, I can't begin to thank you enough for all your help…and hers too." Hank glanced at the retreating young woman.

"Oh, it was my pleasure, Cap." His grin let Hank know what part of the project had been his favorite.

"Yea, I guess even if it isn't chosen there was still one good outcome, huh?" Hank clapped his engineer on the back of the neck in a friendly squeeze.

"True, but I think it'll get picked."

"Honestly," Hank looked over at his engineer, "I think it will too."

E!

Morning chores were well underway the following morning when the station phone rang. Hank was completing paper work in his office and took the call there.

"Station 51, Captain Stanley speaking." Hank's voice was deep and professional. "Yessir…certainly. Thank you, Sir…ok, that'd be great…I'll let my men know. Thank you, Chief."

Hank returned the receiver to the cradle, steepling his hands beneath his chin. Butterflies returned to his stomach again and to calm them he pushed away from his desk and headed for the apparatus bay.

Mike was busy cleaning inside the cab of the fire engine when he heard his name being called. He looked up in response to his superior. "Yea, Cap?"

"Gather Gage and Kelly and meet me in the kitchen will ya pal?"

"Sure, Cap," Mike responded climbing down.

Hank turned and pushed his way through the kitchen door. "Lopez? DeSoto?"

Marco was cleaning out the refrigerator while Roy swept the floor. Both men looked up simultaneously at the sound of Hank's voice.

"Grab a seat," he nodded at the kitchen table just as the other three members of the crew came in.

"Somethin' wrong, Cap?"

"I…uh, don't think so, Chet." Hank stood while the others took their seats, knowing they were wondering what was going on. "Fellas, that phone call was from Chief McConnike. He, ah…he's stood us down until he has a chance to meet with us."

"A'right!"

Captain Stanley raised a hand to quickly quiet the mumbling that Johnny's outburst had created. "Not so fast. He didn't say why he was coming over so let's not jump to conclusions."

"Well then, what did he say…or can you tell us?"

Hank looked at his engineer and saw genuine concern in his crystal blue eyes. "All he said was that he was making us unavailable for an hour or so and that he was on his way over. Oh, and he said to be sure and have a pot of coffee ready when he got here."

"Uh-oh," Chet moaned crossing his arms on the table and leaning his forehead against them. "One of us must've screwed up."

Johnny's expressive face turned in Chet's direction displaying his confusion at the lineman's words. "Huh? If we'd've messed up Cap woulda told us…right, Cap?"

"Oh, yea…of course," but in the back of Hank's mind he was wondering if perhaps they had all done something inappropriate. His insecurities from his past began to resurface. Had their presentation been too forceful? But Chief McConnike had been complimentary of it. So did someone else complain about it? But, they had received a standing ovation from the committee? Perhaps the committee didn't approve of including a civilian in the presentation. But, she had added so much to the presentation and only a civilian could bring a civilian's perspective so how else could they have done it?

"EARTH TO CAP'N STANLEY?"

The sound of Johnny's raised voice jerked Hank from his musings. He looked around and realized that Roy was already wiping off the kitchen table while Marco had started returning the clean dishes from the dish drain to the cabinets and Mike was making a fresh pot of coffee. He knew then that he'd been daydreaming for several moments. Johnny and Chet stood before him with amused looks on their faces. "Oh…uh…did you say something, John?"

"Don't worry, Cap. Whatever it is, it'll be ok. We'll apologize and say we won't ever to it again and whatever else we have to do to make things right. Besides, maybe we're getting commendations," he cut a sideways grin in Roy's direction. "Real ones this time."***

The men returned to their chores with a sense of hurriedness in their step. They each wanted the station to look perfect for their visitor, more for Hank's sake than their own. Half an hour after the phone call, Chief McConnike was welcomed into the station by his former engineer.

"Nice to see you again, Chief."

"Likewise," the older man said extending a box of fresh pastries to Captain Stanley. "I thought your men might want to enjoy a break while you and I speak privately for a few minutes."

"Oh sure, sure…they'll like that. Um, how about a cup of coffee while we talk?" Hank could hear the nervousness in his voice and fought hard to control it.

"Sounds good to me," Chief McConnike said with a smile as he headed toward the kitchen; he knew his way around nearly every station in the county.

Mike made eye contact with Hank and caught the subtle nod of his superior's head in the direction of the kitchen. Immediately, he began rounding up the rest of the crew.

"Hey," he called out to Chet who was finishing up mopping the floor of the latrine, "Chief's here. Cap wants us all in the kitchen." He repeated the call to Johnny and Roy who were straightening up the dorm. He knew that Marco was already in the kitchen ensuring its readiness for the impromptu inspection.

"Good morning," the guest said as the crew gathered around the table.

A chorus of greetings responded back to him.

"Hank and I have some business to discuss for a few moments so you men take a break and enjoy some fresh donuts," he said accepting the proffered cup of coffee Hank extended. "We'll be back in a few minutes to go over a few things."

Five silent firefighters watched as the two officers left the kitchen heading for the captain's office.

"What the hell?"

"Chet," Johnny groaned through clinched teeth, "don't let'im hear you!"

"Well?" The question still lingered on the lineman's lips. "He didn't come over just to bring us donuts."

"Nope," Roy chimed in, "but let's make sure he knows we appreciate the gesture." He opened the pink box pulling out a large chocolate covered eclaire.

"First Ryleigh brings us cookies and then the Chief brings us donuts…we must be good." Marco poured his own cup of coffee then sat down with the others to enjoy their morning break.

Fifteen minutes later the two officers walked back into the kitchen, both men smiling proudly. The immediate sense of relief was obvious on the faces of the crew.

"How're the pastries?"

Chet grinned at the chief, patting his stomach in reply as Mike offered a more audible response.

"Oh they're great chief, thank you."

Hank poured both men a warmer then leaned against the kitchen counter gesturing to Chief McConnike to take the only available chair at the table. "Have a seat."

"And a donut," Marco offered pushing the mostly empty pink box in the chief's direction.

"I believe I will," he took the napkin Hank offered using it to reach inside the box and withdraw a lemon filled donut. "Hank has something he wants to share with you men," his quick glance at the captain did not go unseen by the crew; hope and excitement beginning to swell inside their chests.

Hank stood tall raising his cup in salute to his crewmen, "We did it! Our project was the one chosen."

Rounds of cheers, clapping and handshakes made their way around the energized room.

"Woohoo!"

"Alright!"

That's great!"

"Way to go, Cap!"

"We beat Brice," Johnny whispered, leaning close to Roy's ear so the chief wouldn't hear his remark.

"Tell them the rest, Hank," Chief McConnike prodded.

Hank's blush was pronounced as he bashfully glimpsed in his former captain's direction then returned his smiling gaze to his men. "Chief just asked me to head up the project."

"It's going to require quite a bit of politicking to bring all the affected agencies together but after what we saw yesterday, the committee had no doubt that your captain was the right man for the job," the chief added. "And, I just wanted to let you men know that your presentation was so impressive that you left us very little to discuss. You probably hadn't even gotten out of the parking lot when we voted."

"This is great, Chief. So many lives will be saved because of it."

"Well, Mike, it certainly won't happen overnight. There'll be a lot of work to be done writing grants to secure funding. But I, and the rest of the committee, know that it'll be well worth the time and effort." He looked around at the men staring back at him and thought of how heart-broken and frustrated they each must have felt after the events of the last week. His heart swelled with thankfulness, happy that he could at least add a feeling of jubilation and hope to what they had endured.

Chief stood up, again shaking hands with Hank and then with the other men; his congratulations gratefully accepted by the 'A' shift. "You know, we all were well aware of how 9-1-1 changed emergency services in other places throughout this great state and the entire nation; but when you all brought it to life before our eyes and pointed out in graphic detail how the lack of the service impacts our citizens – and the department – you left us with no other choice." He walked over to the sink and poured out the remnants of his lukewarm coffee, setting the empty cup in the basin. "We couldn't approve the idea fast enough. Like you said, DeSoto," he turned to lock eyes with the red haired paramedic, "we're already too late."

Roy allowed a slight smile to settle on his face as he looked back down at the table, his mind taking him back to the days before the Wedworth-Townsend Act had passed. Chief McConnike's voice brought him back to the present.

"You know fellas…your presentation also generated quite a bit of discussion among the committee members about something else as well; a discussion that you probably didn't intend to drum up." The chief looked around at the questioning faces staring back at him, including Hank's. "I didn't even mention this to your captain so he's hearing this for the first time as well. You brought to life a very large part of our past; our history is slowly fading away before our eyes and we've got to do something to stop its demise."

"Like what, Chief?" Chet gave voice to the question on everyone's mind.

"For instance," the older man crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the cabinet in front of the sink where he had been standing, "that little replica of the Nott Steam Engine got me thinking…I know where one of those is right this minute and it's just rusting away. Mike, when you brought up those early models of fire engines, one of the committee members says he knows where a couple of them are…in a junk yard. How disgusting is that?"

Johnny leaned one hand on the back of a chair, the other propped on his hip. He sighed as he stared downward, "yea…I know what ya mean." He looked over at his partner knowing that the red haired medic was remembering their old engine they too had purchased from a junkyard and restored.

"We've decided to begin work on a museum for our department; a place where old equipment, signs and even old uniforms can have a place of honor and respect. A place where future generations can learn from our past and perhaps even a few of us old timers can meet up to reminiscence someday."

Mike could feel the adrenaline beginning to jumpstart his brain. Now wasn't the time, but he would make sure that the name of Ryleigh Abrams was included in discussions later on. He knew what an asset she would be to such an undertaking and she obviously knew how important emergency services were to the county. "That's a wonderful idea," said the engineer with a broad smile and a twinkle in his eye.

"I'm glad you think so, Stoker. It'll take a lot of fund raising and hard work but I think with a few dedicated people, we could get it started pretty soon. And, you men will all be recognized for the pivotal role you played in the idea." Chief McConnike once again shook hands with the stunned crew before turning to Hank. "Guess I better let you fellas get back to work."

Hank walked the chief to his car, a final handshake rejoining the former captain and engineer in a symbol of agreement to work together again for as long as necessary to ensure the implementation of the program that would give the citizens of Los Angeles County a chance to survive their worst days and the Los Angeles city and county emergency services the opportunity to beat the clock.

Inside, Chet and Johnny were a million miles away; caught up in a dream world of their own making.

"Well, I think the squad should be in the museum…I mean, she is one o' the first paramedic squads in the whole state."

"Aww, Gage…it ain't just about the squad, ya know. Big Red should be in there too; she's perfection on wheels," Chet mused, his open hand waved before him as though he were unveiling a priceless sculpture. "Generations of future firefighters will want to admire her beauty and maybe even have their picture taken with her."

"You two are a couple of nuts," Roy deadpanned as he began running hot water in the sink to wash up the coffee cups.

"Roy…it could happen, it could really happen. Just think about it…a large warehouse with old engines in it, maybe some turnout gear, some of our equipment…hey, maybe even our biophone when we retire it for a newer model."

Roy shook his head in dismay at his partner's wild imagination. "Well, I'm way more interested in what Cap has to say about burning McConnike's hat," he said plunging his hands into the sudsy water.

"Oh yea…hey, I've got an idea," Chet stated with a crisp snap of his finger, pulling the men together to share what he wanted to do in the next few minutes.

When Hank walked back into the station, his mind was still spinning with the news. He rounded the corner into the apparatus bay and was stunned to see his five men, all standing shoulder to shoulder with their feet firmly planted and their arms crossed over their chests - each man sporting a Cheshire cat grin. A loud chuckle escaped from the captain's mouth as he completely understood the meaning of their formation and their faces.

"Ok…I'll tell you. But not right now; we've been stood back up." He waited a moment to see if there would be any protest. When no one moved or spoke, he continued. "It's a long story and I don't want any interruptions, alright?"

"No problem, Cap." Johnny laughed, "But you aren't gonna get outta this one, ya know?"

"I know, John," he responded, mimicking the stance of his men. "Besides, you all deserve to know…it'll make you better captains one day," he smiled locking eyes with each man knowing that each one had what it took to lead a crew at some point in the future.

"Why don't we meet at Cinders tomorrow night for a round of drinks…on me?" Hank thought the favorite bar of firefighters would be the most appropriate place for them to meet. He'd make sure to call ahead and reserve one of their private meeting rooms for the event. He knew the night might cost him a small fortune but in his mind, it was going to be well worth it and he was determined to let his men know how much he appreciated them and how proud he was to be their leader. "Oh, and Mike?"

"Yea, Cap?"

"Please share our news with Ryleigh. She'll be very happy to hear about all her hard work paying off…but, uh, I'm afraid she isn't invited tomorrow night…the story isn't exactly appropriate for mixed company."

The men chuckled loudly at that comment then quickly jumped in agreeing to meet at eight o'clock. This would give them plenty of time to rest if they had a difficult night. And finally, the mystery that had plagued the Station 51 'A' shift for over six years would soon be solved.

E!

*"Emergency!," World Premier Movie, episode 0.1

**"Drivers," Emergency! Season 2 episode 2.13

***"Above and Beyond – Nearly" Emergency! Season 5 episode 5.20

A/N: According to my research, 911 was placed in service throughout the entire county of Los Angeles in 1984, sixteen years after the first 911 call was made in the United States on February 16, 1968 in Haleyville, Alabama.

Also, the County of Los Angeles Fire Department Museum was founded in the mid-'70's by two L.A. County Firefighters. For more information please visit: .org.

E!

Epilogue

The following night, Hank walked through the door of Cinders looking for his favorite waitress, Glenda.

"Hiya, Cap."

He recognized the voice immediately and gave her a quick hug. Glenda was the widow of one of Los Angeles County's former Captains who had died years earlier from injuries sustained in a motor vehicle accident while off duty. She had begun working at Cinders shortly after his death both for a source of income and as a way of staying in touch with the brotherhood to which her husband had dedicated his life's work. She was very grateful to be so accepted by the men who frequented the establishment and even more grateful for their more than generous tips. They all knew that she would look out for them and never allow one of them to drive home after a night of overindulgence. She carried a small notebook in her purse with the names and telephone numbers of every captain of every shift for every station in the county. She was determined to do what she could to prevent another firefighter's wife from experiencing the heartbreak she had suffered; every man would make it home safely on her watch. And every captain knew that when she called for help, the life of one of their own was in jeopardy.

"Hey there, Glenda," he said, turning in the direction of her voice. "You got a room ready for us?"

"Sure do…I've already got some bowls of snacks in there so as soon as everyone arrives, I'll start the drinks flowing….just follow me."

Her smile seemed a little over eager to Hank but she was such a jovial person that he simply dismissed the thought and followed behind her to a side room where she opened the door for him. When he walked in, he nearly stumbled over his own chin. The dimly lit room was adorned with a banner that read 'CONGRATULATIONS' and beneath it, sitting around a large round table were all five members of his crew.

Hank looked back down at his watch then back up at the snickering men. "You're early."

"Whoa…write that down Chet, Johnny…you'll never hear him say that about the two of you again," Marco laughed, reaching towards one of the two platters of Nachos on the table.

"You can say that again," Roy chimed in, reaching for his own loaded nacho chip.

"Have a seat, Cap…we just thought we'd surprise you," Mike said, pulling out the only vacant chair at the table.

"You fellas do know that you've just proven to me that you can get to work on time without making me wonder where you are every morning, right?"

"Told ya, Gage," Chet said elbowing the dark haired paramedic.

Johnny took a long sip of his draft beer. "Well, I think Cap gets latrine duty tonight…seein' how's he's the last one here," Johnny laughed, returning his tall glass back to the table, grabbing a handful of peanuts then leaning back in his seat smugly.

"Funny you should mention latrines, Gage…"

"Whatcha drinking, Cap?" Glenda interrupted.

"Oh, bring me whatever their drinking," he said with a smile and waited for her to leave the room closing the door behind her. "Latrines are actually involved in my story."

"Haha," Johnny clapped his hands together,"I can't wait to hear this."

"Not until I get my beer," Hank commented, stalling for a few more minutes. He knew he would need the liquid courage or else he might not tell them the entire story; a story he knew they deserved to hear him tell.

Glenda was well aware of their need for privacy so she filled up two pitchers of draft beer and included an icy glass full for Hank as well then returned to the closed off room as quickly as she could. "Alright, fellas…I saw a few glasses starting to empty so I figured you might want a couple of pitchers to keep you going for a while." She leaned into the table placing Hank's glass in front of him and leaving the two pitchers sitting in the middle. "Need more nachos or snacks?"

"Johnny widened his eyes at the group and received a few nods. "Nope, I think we're good for a while," he said with a wink.

"Well, if you need anything just come and get me. I'll check back later on," she pulled the large tray underneath her arm and quietly exited the room.

The men chatted for several minutes, drinking and enjoying each other's company. It had been a while since the entire group had gotten together for an outing and they certainly had plenty to celebrate. They finished off both platters of nachos and most of the beer before Hank decided he'd delayed the inevitable long enough. He was just beginning to feel a slight buzz and didn't know whether it was from the alcohol or the events they were here to celebrate.

"Anybody want more food before I get started?" When no one responded, he began.

"Alright, I need each of you to swear that what I'm about to tell you will never leave this room." He locked eyes with each member of his crew, not breaking eye contact until the other man agreed to keep the story confidential. "Now, don't interrupt me…or I might just change my mind, ok?"

The guys all nodded their agreement, fighting back their desires to grin at their superior and his obvious struggle.

"Well," he gazed into the flickering flame of the candle light as his mind drifted back to his first assignment as an engineer.

_Captain McConnike walked into his office, opening the personnel folder of his newest employee. "Engineer Henry 'Hank' Stanley," he mused to himself, slamming the folder closed with a grimace. He had been struggling to pull his rag tag crew together into a functional unit over the last three months. The last thing he needed was some hotshot engineer trying to undermine his authority. A knock on his door broke his attention away from his personnel problems._

"_Uh, Captain McConnike?" A tall thin dark haired man stood nervously in the open doorway wringing his hands together._

"_Yes?"_

"_I'm Hank Stanley…your new engineer," the nervous young man stated. _

_The Captain looked down at his watch and briefly raised an eyebrow. The lanky man did have one thing going for him; he was punctual. It was only 0730 and no one else from his shift had arrived yet. He scoffed at the thought. It was a good day when his crew arrived on time for roll call. He looked back up at the man still standing in the doorway and knew he needed to make him feel welcome. _

"_Nice to meet you, Hank. Follow me and I'll show you to your locker….I'm sure you can figure out which bunk is yours." His tone was more sarcastic than he'd intended it to be. When he stood up he was a bit taken aback at the height of his new second in command. Between his tall frame and his deep baritone voice, the younger man had a commanding presence. Perhaps, his new engineer would be the key to bringing the group of juvenile delinquents known as 'C' shift together. And that thought, over a few shifts, began to take root and grow stronger. _

_Hank couldn't figure out his knew captain. The man seemed to have two personalities; professional and commanding on scene but frustrating and hateful when in quarters. Of course, the other members of the crew didn't make the man's job any easier; something Hank readily admitted. The linemen seemed inept at times as they battled for supremacy on the lines. The two rescue men seemed to spend more time arguing over procedural differences rather than rescuing victims. Then if a scene required the four of them to work together there was sure to be a butt chewing when they returned to quarters. The four men seemed unable to work together with the skill and competence that each man possessed alone; something unheard of in a cohesive departmental unit. _

_By the third week, Hank was beginning to think he'd made a terrible mistake in accepting the promotion to engineer. Captain McConnike seemed to be picking on him unmercifully. He berated him in front of the others, pointing out his errors which in Hank's mind weren't really errors at all. Just when he thought he might talk with his superior privately, the older man began to do the same thing to the others on the shift. This behavior seemed unbecoming of a man in his position and after only six weeks, Hank began to consider a transfer request. But before he had the opportunity to make the request, something happened that caused him to make a decision he'd regret for the rest of his life._

_The 'C' shift was in the process of being relieved from duty at a particularly nasty and deadly warehouse fire. The blaze began in the early morning hours while a skeleton crew was assembled inside and before it was discovered, it had gotten out of control. The station was called in as part of a second alarm assignment and fought with everything they had. As usual, the men did not perform as well as Captain McConnike had expected nor did they perform as well as the other crews seemed to perform. At one point during the disaster, Captain McConnike began shouting at his two linemen for some misdeed, although Hank, who was manning the controls of the engine, had no idea exactly what the two had done. The fatigue of a night fire and the pressure of knowing that life had already been lost in the turmoil brought out the worst in each man. As Captain McConnike turned away to storm off, one of the linemen yanked on his hose raising it just enough to cause the angry captain to trip over the charged line. The resulting fall caused him to need stitches in a very large gash above his forehead having landed against the bumper of the rescue truck._

"_Damn it!" He groaned trying to determine the guilty party but neither man was looking at him; neither knew that they had just injured his captain. By the time his crew had been released from the scene, his eye was beginning to swell shut and he was ordered to go to the hospital before returning to his station. He got a ride to Harbor General in the back of an ambulance._

_The men were driven back to quarters by their engineer who suddenly found himself in command of the haggard group. He looked around the locker room, having already been told that the station was being stood down until 'A' shift came on duty which was only an hour away._

_His frustration was growing with each shift he worked but now he was in charge of the group swearing inside the locker room, although he was a reluctant leader. He pushed open the locker room door and stomped angry feet toward his own locker as phrases directed at their captain hovered in the sticky stuffy air of the steamy room. _

"_That sonofabitch," one of the linemen proclaimed._

"_I know…I hate him," a shirtless rescue man replied._

"_He must be wanting to climb the company ladder. Why else would he treat us like shit?" The rhetorical question had been posed by the second lineman._

"_Yea…well, I'd like to get him halfway up that ladder and tip his ass over," the other rescue man admitted._

_Hank jumped into the conversation with both feet as the group considered various ways to let Captain McConnike know their displeasure with HIS performance, since he was so good at pointing out their own. Hank was the one who thought of the idea but the others joined in rather quickly. _

"_Hey fellas…he was sent straight to the hospital so he won't be coming by here for a while," the engineer began and then he unleashed his plan to an astonished but more than willing crew. Before the members of 'A' shift arrived, Hank sneaked into the captain's office. As the leader of the shift by default, the incoming captain wouldn't question Hank's presence in the office even if he was caught. He carefully searched the office, pulling open desk drawers and filing cabinets until he found what he was looking for – Captain McConnike's white dress hat. No one knew why he kept it there but on this day, they were glad he did. _

_He turned it over, noting the 'McC' written inside the band then put it behind his back as he walked away from the office whistling a tune he'd heard on his radio during his commute to work the previous day. He looked around quickly to see if he saw any members of the next shift already arriving but seeing none, he quickly stepped backwards into the locker room and held up his trophy._

"_Got it!" He held up the spotless hat as evidence._

"_You're crazy but…let's do it!"_

"_Yea…I'm in…old bastard deserves it for the hell he puts us through every day," another man said._

_Hank carefully stuffed it down in his duffle bag while the men surrounding him all agreed on a place and time to meet that very night. They wanted to salute their captain in a most memorable way. _

_Later that evening, the five crew members sat in a circle around a fire they'd built in a local camping ground. Each man had brought some item to consume and the group enjoyed a couple of hours of drinking beer and eating freshly grilled hotdogs. Time passed by quickly until the fire had burned down to just glowing embers but there was still one thing left to do. Hank removed Captain McConnike's hat setting it on the ground then each man took his hotdog roasting stick and together they raked five pieces of orange hot coals into the dress hat. As soon as the task was accomplished, they stood around it in a circle, unzipping their pants and preparing to use their own personal hoses and water supply to douse this particular fire. _

_But, they couldn't do it. There they stood, shoulder to shoulder, unified by one goal…the same goal their captain had been trying to instill in them by his harshness. They were actually working together to put out a fire. _

_Hank looked around at the red eyed faces of the others and he could tell they were thinking the same thing he was thinking at that very moment. Quickly, he covered the smoldering hat with dirt preventing further burning but the damage had already been done. The men quickly rezipped their pants and sat back down; they had to come up with a plausible explanation as to what had happened to their captain's hat. Midnight came and went and still the small assembly couldn't come up with a believable lie. _

_Finally, Hank spoke up. "Maybe we can just tell him the truth?"_

"_Are you stupid or something?"_

"_No…but Cap's a smart man and he isn't going to believe anything short of the truth." Hank was just as nervous as the others but he really felt he had no other choice but to come clean and accept the reprimand he knew was coming; he just hoped the punishment wasn't something worse than a reprimand. After all, he was a young husband and father who needed a job to support his growing family. It took a lot of convincing but eventually, Hank got the agreement from the others. They would all arrive early for their next shift and wait for their captain in the parking lot of their station. _

_An hour before shift change, the group met in the parking lot to the side of their station. The current shift was out on a run giving the group privacy in which to confess their horrible act to their superior. Captain McConnike was early, as usual, for their next shift and was shocked to see his crew waiting in the parking lot when he arrived; their faces somber. _

_He stepped out of his car and made his way to the group of men who seemed to be struggling to look at him. He approached them cautiously, wondering what they might be up to. "Men, what's going on here?"_

_The group began to shift from one foot to the other while looking at each other; they suddenly realized they hadn't chosen a spokesman for the group. Finally, Hank decided that since the idea was his, he needed to accept the responsibility. _

_He stepped forward slightly then in a shivering voice, he began. "Um, Cap…we, uh…that is to say, I…well,"_

"_Spit it out, Stanley; I haven't got all day."_

"_Yessir, well see…," Hank sighed and then decided to simply hold out the remains of the hat in his trembling hand. _

_The captain looked at what was left of his hat which was now basically just a ring with a bill; the soft inner lining having been eaten away by the burning coals. He reached a tentative hand out to take it away from his engineer, gripping what was left of the rim he recognized._

"_What the hell's this supposed to be?" He looked long and hard into the eyes of Engineer Stanley seeing fear and yet respect in the hazel orbs. _

_Hank cleared his throat, wondering if this was the last day of his career. "Uh, sir…it's your hat."_

"_Yea, well I can see that but what did you twits do to it?" The older man's heart was thudding inside his chest causing the area around his stitches to throb slightly. But deeper inside, in the place where his soul seemed to reside, another sensation was beginning to develop._

"_We, uh…well, we burned it." Hank's voice sounded hollow to his ears._

"_Mmm-Hmm," he pulled the ring up to eye level to take a longer gaze at it, "And I assume this was just a very unfortunate accident?"_

_Hank felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as none of the other men in the group spoke up leaving him feeling very lonely. "Ah, no…no sir…it wasn't an accident," he said hanging his head._

"_Ok, Stanley…in my office NOW!" He turned to his side to point in the direction of the station then turned back around to face what was left of his crew. "The rest of you, get your assess in uniform and get ready to protect the citizens of this county."_

_He waited a few moments but when no one moved, he repeated himself again but with more authority in his voice._

"_Cap," one of the rescue men called out to him. "I did it too," he said, his shoulders slumping. _

_One by one the other three agreed and accepted their share of the blame for the hat burning. Slowly, he sent them one by one into the captain's office. What he wanted to say to them would be said to the group. As the last man made his way to the office as slowly as if he were being led to the gallows, the captain exhaled a long breath that blew out his cheeks. He recognized the behavior and was glad he'd finally seen it in the group. _

_Once he stepped into the crowded office, he made each man look at him before he began. He noted the child-like fear in each man's haunted face and knew they were wondering if they were going to be fired. He allowed them to sweat it out for several long minutes before he began to address the issue at hand._

"_Men, I know I'm a hard-ass. I also know that you hate me and believe it or not, I'm ok with that. Because, what I've been trying to do for months now, has finally been accomplished. You've pulled together to face a common enemy and in so doing you have formed a true cohesive team. I've never seen you all work together before like I have this morning and for the first time…I see that you've got each other's backs. If you didn't, then you'd have let Stanley take the punishment alone but you didn't. That's important in our line of work and it's something I've been concerned about for this shift. Now, don't get me wrong, there will be punishment…but, I won't reprimand you. We'll just keep this in house. Because you didn't have to bring back…uh," he held up the ring of his charred hat, "the evidence. But since you did and you accepted the blame for it, together I might add, I'm going to consider it a, uh…casualty of a drill."_

Hank allowed his eyes to refocus on the candle that had burned down significantly since he'd begun telling his story of the hat burning incident. He looked at the reflection of the dancing light on the walls around them, decorated with various metal tools of their trade. "So…anyway…that's the story."

"You never told him you guys were gonna piss on his hat?"

Hank looked at his Irish lineman with a sarcastic smile. "Nope…and you won't either, will you?"

"Oh, of course not."

"Well, now we understand why he asked you to head up the project for them…you're good at bringing groups together for a common goal," Roy's sincerity was written all over his face.

"So what did he do to punish you?"

Hank snickered at Johnny's question. "Well, if you really want to know then just burn my hat," he raised his empty glass in a silent toast before emptying one of the pitchers of its contents. He appreciated the chorus of laughter that made its way around the table.

"No, actually…he gave each one of us an entire month of latrine duty but he also made us run through our team drills until our tongues were hanging out." He took a big drink from his glass. "He turned us into the best damn shift in the whole county for many years," he said with a smile.

"So who finally knocked you guys off the top spot?"

"Ahh…well, Mike," he began with the biggest smile his men had ever seen, "there was this group on 'A' shift at a new station in Carson a few years back…"

E!

A/N: I know this was a long and drawn out story but I really appreciate you for following it and especially those who took the time to review. I truly thank you.


End file.
